


safeword

by salazarsslytherin



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Actual Dom Brian May, Aftercare, Alcohol, Anal Fingering, BDSM, Bondage, Bottom Freddie, Dom Brian, Dom/sub, Friends to Lovers, Hand Jobs, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Control, Recreational Drug Use, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking, Sub Freddie, Subspace, Top Brian, basically there's going to be loads of kinky sex and at some point feelings, i'll add tags as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2020-05-14 10:08:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19271068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salazarsslytherin/pseuds/salazarsslytherin
Summary: Brian doesn’t know what possesses him but the words are out before he can think better.  “You know what?  Fine.  If you wanna go to a gay club so bad, let’s fucking go.  Where’s your jacket?”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay you know that scene in Bo Rhap with Another One Bites The Dust and the studio bit is cut through with Freddie in that gay sex club and he's clearly a bit out of his depth but _so_ into it? This is basically that, except Brian goes with him, and Brian's not the blushing virgin everyone seems to think he is. At all. 
> 
> Hold onto your harnesses, people, because it's about to get kinky in here (after they've worked out some boundaries, ofc).

 

 

“I’m worried about Freddie.”

Amazing how many of Brian’s conversations seem to start like that, these days.

Roger’s already rolling his eyes.  “You need to let it go, Brian, you know what he’s like.”

“I _do_ know what he’s like,” Brian retorts, setting his guitar aside as he realises he’s gripping it a bit too tightly.  “That’s _exactly_ why I’m worried.”

“He’s just having some fun, he likes a good party.”

“He’s not out there drinking a few too many beers and throwing up in someone’s bushes!”  Brian wouldn’t have minded that in the least, in fact he’s dealt with _that_ Freddie a thousand times.  “He’s going to get in trouble, I don’t trust Prenter with him, you _know_ he’s—”

“Not going to stop,” Roger cuts him off.  “He’s _Fred_.  If he wants to go off and shag eight men in one night, nothing in this world is going to stop him.”

Brian pulls in a long, deep breath and briefly wishes he smoked.  The breath is shaky when he lets it out.  “I just don’t trust Prenter with him,” he repeats, because none of the others take this seriously, he _knows_ they don’t, but there’s something about that fucking man that sets Brian’s teeth on edge.  He wouldn’t want him around anyone, let alone Freddie.

“Oh, come off it, Brian, if Paul was hurting him, d’you think Freddie’d keep going out with him?”  

Brian swallows his reply, because he can’t bear to hear himself say, _Yes_.  

“Look,” Roger says, softening a little.  “Freddie’s just being _Freddie_.  He doesn’t do anything by halves but he’ll move on quick enough.  It’s just ‘cause it’s all new, all these clubs and men and all that.”

Brian frowns.  “He never used to skip out on studio time, though.  This always used to come first—the music, the _band_.”  Lately, though, it’s like Freddie can’t wait to be through with his bits so he can get back out there, Paul constantly hanging in the doorway and making eyes at him until Freddie makes his excuses and leaves for another night.  And Brian’s not _blind_ ; he knows exactly what Paul’s doing when he slips his finger or his tongue into Freddie’s mouth just outside, even if he can’t see the fucking pill.

It’s hard to tell because Freddie’s eyes are so dark anyway but they’re blown wide more often than not, glassy and too-bright in the brief moments when he takes his sunglasses off.  He misses notes where he never used to, deems songs ‘good enough’ where before he’d settle for nothing less than perfect, for whatever he could hear inside his own head playing back to him from their battered tapes.

Brian’s making himself sick worrying over it, no matter how many times Roger and even John tell him it’s no use.  He does _know_ that Freddie’s impossible to control, that trying to talk to him about this will only make him defensive and defiant, that he’s going to lash out at anyone who tries to criticise him, and that’ll only drive him further into Paul’s arms.  But what else can he _do_?  He can’t just stand by and fucking _watch_ because soon he’s going to be standing there uselessly fucking _watching_ as Freddie seriously hurts himself.  

Just as he’d stood by uselessly today when Paul came to fetch Freddie from the studio, as he did every night, and Brian had watched Freddie’s retreating back, willing himself to call out and stop him but finding himself quite voiceless.  _Again_.  

It was no use promising himself that _tomorrow_ he’d do something, always _tomorrow_ , when he would somehow think of the perfect words to say.  There weren’t any perfect words, there was no magic phrase that would bring Freddie back to them and keep him there.  

“He’ll be alright,” Roger says, clapping Brian on the shoulder as he heads for the door himself.  No point in staying late without Freddie, may as well hit up a pub or three on the way home.

Deaky gives Brian a nod and a sympathetic smile before heading out with Roger, but Brian doesn’t follow for a long time.  He sits alone in the studio, fingers tapping restlessly against the control bank, and can’t help but think about Freddie.  What he’s doing, who he’s with.  If he’s safe, if he’s happy.  If they’re losing him.  

 

 

* * *

 

 

It takes Brian a long time to realise that there’s another emotion lurking in him, something more than worry or anger or frustration.  It’s not just irritation he feels flare up inside when Freddie’s lounging, smoking, kicking his feet up into Prenter’s lap.  He’s not pissed off at the immaturity of it all when Prenter parades Freddie round on his shoulders, hands secure on his thighs so he won’t fall.  He’s not only worried when he sees the bruises like bracelets around Freddie’s thin wrists, and the hickies that spot his throat.

He’s jealous.  

It’s hot and sharp one evening when he’s stood watching them in the doorway, watching Prenter whisk Freddie off yet again, a sick curl of it that Brian can’t deny.  He suddenly knows exactly what it is.  Seeing Freddie tip his head back for a possessive kiss that leaves his mouth pink and his eyes round, Brian has to turn away.  His hands shake, heart beating like he’s gearing up for a fight.  

“See you darlings tomorrow!” Freddie proclaims as he fans through the door, throwing a wave over his shoulder without a backward glance.

Brian lets him go again and hates himself a little more.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

“What the hell do you _see_ in that asshole, Fred?” Brian can’t help himself.  All of a sudden he’s no longer content with simply glaring at Prenter’s back and wishing a car would hit him when he steps outside, no longer satisfied to just think truly awful things and voice them only to Roger when they’re both drunk.  No.  He _hates_ Paul with a vicious anger he’s never hated anything with in his life, and maybe he’d be able to cope with that, but it's Freddie.  It’s _Freddie_.  It’s always been different when it’s Freddie.

For his part, Freddie doesn’t seem too surprised by the outburst.  He gives a quick laugh that doesn’t sound like him at all, patronising and _fake_.  “Oh, you wouldn’t understand, darling,” Freddie says casually, waving Brian’s question off and his non-answer with it.

“ _Try me_ ,” Brian growls.  He’s _desperate_ to know what the fuck Prenter has that literally _any other_ man in the world doesn’t.  _Why_ did Freddie have to pick _him_?  Because it’s not even like he’s exclusively with Prenter—Brian knows for a _fact_ that Freddie frequently shags other people, and he’s sure that Paul knows too, but somehow Paul’s always still there.  

Freddie laughs again but he’s staring shrewdly up at Brian from where he’s laid out across three chairs.  “Well,” he says, “it’s the sex more than anything, dear.  He’s got a big cock, you see, and I’m quite fussy.”

Brian knows that Freddie’s trying to get a reaction from him, so he deliberately keeps his face impassive.  “So?” he asks.  “Plenty of men have big cocks.”

Freddie snorts at that, surprised and delighted by the retort.  “You’re right,” he allows, lazily swinging his leg back and forth, the toe of his trainer scuffing the floor.  “He knows all sorts of naughty places, though, Bri—you can’t even _imagine_.”

Brian _can_ , actually.  “That’s it?  You’re staying with the prick because he’s got a pass to a few clubs?” Brian demands.  He steps closer.  “You’re _Freddie fucking Mercury_.  You don’t need _him_ to get in anywhere—he probably needs _you_.”

That at least sparks a sort of thoughtful look on Freddie’s face, like he’d never considered that before, but he shrugs it off after a moment.  “I can’t go _alone_ ,” he says, like Brian’s brainless to even think it.  

“Don’t _go_ alone,” Brian snaps.  “Just don’t go with _him_.  He doesn’t fucking _care_ about you, Fred!”

Freddie gives a proper laugh then.  “I know _that_ , Brian,” he chuckles, but he doesn't.  Freddie never does, he doesn’t see the worst of people and he always, _always_ cares too much.  

“So why bother with him?” 

“I just told you!”

Brian doesn’t know what possesses him but the words are out before he can think better.  “You know what?  Fine.  If you wanna go to a gay club so bad, let’s fucking go.  Where’s your jacket?”

That’s twice he’s managed to surprise Freddie in as many minutes.  Freddie actually gapes at him, lets out a breathy laugh that peters off when he realises Brian’s not joking.

“Oh, Bri, you’re not serious,” he says, slowly sitting up.  He has a shitty smug look on his face that Brian despises, Freddie _never_ used to look at him like that.

“I’m serious, let’s see what all this fuss is about—I’m dying to know.  Where’s your coat, Fred?”

Freddie doesn’t move, just watches Brian with frozen amusement on his face, and Brian turns to look for Freddie’s coat himself.  It’s tossed over the arm of a sofa and Brian steps right up to Freddie to shove it in his chest.  “Come on, then,” he says, all but clicking his fingers.  

“Brian…”  He rolls his eyes, which actually pisses Brian off more than the smug look.

“No, don’t ‘ _Brian_ ’ me, I want to see where it is you have all this _naughty_ fun.”

Freddie hesitates for a second longer before he just laughs through his nose and shrugs, getting up.  “You’re going to hate it,” he says, with that look still on his face.  “I doubt they’ll even let you in.”

“I’m sure they will if I’m with you.”  Brian hasn’t really thought that far ahead— _will_ they let him in?  Is there some sort of code or look that you need to qualify?  A membership card?  It’s been a while since he went to a club like this, and he’s never been to a gay one before.  It stands to reason they’re a lot more fussy over who they let in, given the amount of abuse people face just out on the streets.  

“Probably.  Alright then,” Freddie says, with the air of someone washing their hands of a mistake.  “I’ll show you, if you want to see so much.”

Brian leads him outside and they clamber into the back of one of their cars, Terry slipping into the front seat.  “Where to, boss?” he asks.

Freddie smirks a bit.  “Usual.”

Brian catches Terry’s surprised glance to him in the rearview and makes sure his expression doesn’t change.  Let them be surprised, Brian’s not backing down now.  He’s always been more stubborn than Freddie, who’d always rather find a compromise than continue fighting for days.  Or at least, Freddie _used_ to, before fucking _Paul_ got to him and started whispering in his ear.  _You don’t have to listen to them, Freddie_ and _You should do what YOU want, Fred, nobody listens to this any more_.  Brian’s heard him, Prenter rarely troubles to keep his voice down.  

He’s seething again just thinking about it, and something must show on his face because Freddie arches an eyebrow at him.  

“Having second thoughts, dear?” he asks knowingly.  “We can turn around.  Why don’t we drop you back at the hotel, hmm?”

“No,” Brian says resolutely, and turns to meet Freddie’s amused gaze.  “Do you really think you’re going to shock me that much, Fred?”

“Yes,” Freddie replies honestly.  A little of the smugness is slipping away, now.  “You’ll think differently of me, once you see.”  It’s a warning, but Brian knows Freddie well enough to hear the worry lacing the carefully indifferent tone.

“I won’t.”  Brian knows that.

Freddie doesn’t reply to that.  He lights up a cigarette instead, which he knows Brian hates, and Brian stares out of the window.  It’s not long before he stops recognising the streets they’re driving along.

He can feel Freddie’s gaze boring a hole into the side of his head but Brian refuses to react to it or even look at him, feigning mild interest as he watches buildings flit by.  Town is looking dodgier by the second and Brian feels a slight pang of nerves followed by a low wave of worry; if this is the sort of place Freddie gets dropped off every night, it doesn’t reassure Brian in the slightest.

What the hell has he been _doing_ here?  It’s an industrial sort of area, something to do with _meat_ if the smell is anything to go by.  It makes Brian feel faintly ill.  

The car comes to a stop before he’s quite ready for it and Freddie’s still watching him.

“Last chance to back out,” he offers, ever so graciously.  “Terry will drive you home, darling.  Let’s be serious—you don’t _really_ want to see.”

Brian’s only response is to shove the door open and get out, leaving Freddie to scramble after him.  

He tries one more time to convince Brian to leave, which Brian cuts off before Freddie’s done much more than open his mouth, and Freddie just shrugs and slips an arm around his waist.

It makes Brian’s heart jump and he suddenly realises that this is quite probably a terrible fucking idea.  What the fuck is he doing?  He can’t stand watching Prenter touch him just casually, can’t stand to see a quick kiss in a doorway; how the fuck is he going to watch Freddie...take _part_ in anything in here without losing his fucking mind?  Because he’s sure Freddie _will_ take part, his friend and bandmate there as witness or no; he wants to shock Brian, after defiantly dragging him all this way.  

“You’ll have to play the part,” Freddie tells him lowly.  

Brian snakes his own arm around Freddie’s waist, hooking his thumb into one of his belt loops without thinking about it, and lets Freddie guide them over to a nondescript door Brian had barely even noticed was there.  

Behind it there are two large, bald men with arms crossed and Brian’s stomach flips with nerves but they don’t say a word, just step aside to let them pass through another door.  One of them nods at Freddie.

And that’s it—they’re in.

Freddie lets go of him as soon as they’re out of sight and Brian becomes aware, then, of his absence, tucks his hands into his pockets for want of something to do with them.  The door swings closed behind them and leaves them in a dimly lit hallway bearing nothing but a staircase going down.  There’s the muffled thump of music and Brian feels oddly imprisoned with the heavy door shut behind him and knowing the only way forward is to go down there and see...what, he’s not exactly sure.  

He hopes whatever happens here doesn’t ruin their friendship but his stubbornness and, if he’s honest, his absolute _curiosity_ won’t let him leave now.  He wants to prove to Freddie that he doesn’t need Paul, yes, but he wants to see this as well.  Wants to know.  He used to do this, himself; different places, different clubs, different people.  But the game is still the same and Brian’s desperate to know how Freddie plays it.

“Pick-me-up?” Freddie offers into the quiet between them.

Coke will surely only help this situation so Brian holds his hand out and Freddie, for lack of flat surfaces and razor blades, tips it into the crease between his thumb and index finger.  It’s only a tiny hit, won’t do much, but it’ll be enough to get him through the initial shock, at least.  

It’s been months since he did this, any of this, but what’s that saying about old habits?  

Freddie starts down the stairs without another word, the music getting louder as they descend, and Brian’s heart starts kicking up like he never left.  

There’s another door, though this one isn’t guarded by anyone, then the music swells over them and Brian’s hit by the familiar smell of fresh sweat and leather and _sex_ , which is immediately arousing.

Coloured lights flash every which way, illuminating skin in red, blue, green; little teases of bodies dancing and moving, men swaying together and alone, gyrating around poles and inside caged podiums.  There are men in police hats just like Freddie wears, men in collars and harnesses, men in masks with nothing but mouth-holes who are pulled along on leashes.  Men in garters and stockings, eight-inch heels and lipstick, men in nothing at all, men in short skirts and men dressed head-to-toe in leather.

It’s different to what Brian’s seen before, but not by much.  There’s actually, surprisingly, _more_ lingerie being worn here than in clubs he’s been to with women.  He likes it.  

It’s always thrilling to see this sort of thing outside of a bedroom, out in the open and in public like this, where anyone can see—and people _do_ see.  People watch.  It should be forbidden but here it’s not and Brian had almost forgotten the heady rush of it.

He meets a man’s eye, over the shoulder of the man he’s dancing with, and holds his gaze until their dancing turns him away.  

Brian feels flushed and light-headed.  He wants a drink, more coke, or something stronger, maybe.  He wants a lot of things, all of a sudden.

He really, _really_ wants to know what it is Freddie does here.

Freddie, who is watching him like a _hawk_ from Brian’s left side, waiting for him to turn and flee in horror.  

Brian offers his hand instead.  “Shall we get a drink?” he shouts over the music.  

Freddie frowns.  “Don’t you want to leave?” he calls back, surprised.  He has to lean in to be heard and Brian catches his elbow automatically, bending his head down to try and hear.  He stares at Freddie’s mouth as though lip-reading but it’s not just that, he knows it’s not.

“I don’t want to leave,” Brian says with absolute certainty.  “I want to get a drink.”

Freddie can’t hide his shock but it’s clear that he’s impressed.  “Bar’s that way!”  He jerks his head to indicate where and pulls his vest off as he starts walking, bathing him in blue light that makes him look ethereal and unreal.  There are lip-marks dotted across his chest and shoulders, possessive-looking bites that have bruised his skin.  Brian wonders how many of those belong to Prenter and wishes there was a wavelength of light that would wash them away, scrub Freddie fresh and new and clean again instead of this blue and the red, which only make them more obvious.  

Can admit to himself, in the dark anonymity of this club, that he only wants Freddie new again so can mark him with his own mouth.

He follows Freddie through the crowd, keeps a tight grip on his hand so they won’t lose each other in the throng of people pressing close around them, catches eyes and glances as he goes.  Some linger, some slide away, some give Brian such an obvious once-over that it gives him a tiny thrill.  

Freddie’s evidently noticed them looking.  He leans into his toes, his mouth close to Brian’s ear.  “I think they like you,” he has to shout to be heard, laughing as they join the crowd at the bar.  Thankfully the music isn’t quite as loud here.    

“I’m not here with them,” Brian tells him.  

Freddie doesn’t have a response to that.  He doesn’t do the polite thing and wait his turn at the bar—he’s Freddie fucking Mercury, after all—but pushes his way forward.  It’s quite easily done; as soon as people glance at him and either recognise who he is or at least recognise him from previous nights, they let him through.

He orders himself a vodka tonic and Brian a beer.  He doesn’t even have to specify which vodka because the bar staff just know, pouring Stoli and Schweppes into a glass for him.  

Brian catches himself wondering how many people in here Freddie’s screwed, or have screwed him.  Wonders if Freddie’s ever dressed up, if anyone ever fastened a collar around his neck, if he’s ever been fucked against the back wall like a dozen other couples are doing now, right in plain sight.  

His jeans are starting to get uncomfortable.

He takes a deep swig of beer and looks around some more, but his gaze is inevitably drawn back to Freddie no matter how many living fantasies parade themselves around the club.

“So do you just stand here and drink all night?” Brian says into his ear.  He’s trying to goad him and it works.  

Freddie arches a contentious eyebrow and turns back to the barman, signalling to him until a row of shots lines the bar.  

Probably a bad idea but, if Brian’s honest with himself, that’s why he came.

“Surely you don’t want to go anywhere else?” Freddie asks, and necks the first one.

Brian takes the second without replying, tipping it down his throat with the easy practice of any seasoned rockstar.

“One step out of this room’ll have you running for the hills,” Freddie assures him after he drinks the next one, shaking his head after and wincing a bit.  

Brian leans in, just a bit closer, and makes sure Freddie meets his eye.  “What makes you think that?” he asks lowly.  Any other night it might have frustrated him how innocent Freddie seems to think he is—God knows it has before—but tonight he doesn’t care.  Let him think that, if he wants.  He’ll soon see.  “Do you think I’ve never been in a sex club before, Freddie?”

Freddie blinks and slides the next shot toward Brian with one finger.  “Drink,” he says.  

Brian takes the glass but he doesn’t lift it.  “So what, then?  You drink and then what?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“I really do.”

“I get _fucked_ , Bri,” Freddie says quickly, loud even with the music blaring though nobody pays them any attention.  “You should go back to the hotel, Terry’ll be waiting outside.”

Brian shakes his head.  “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I don’t need you to fucking _babysit_ me—”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Brian interrupts, and finally lifts the shot glass between his fingers, though he doesn’t drink it himself.  He tips it against Freddie’s mouth, meets his eyes again as Freddie’s lips part and he tips his head back to swallow it.  

“Why are you here then?” Freddie asks.  His eyes are bright and there’s a wet smudge of tequila along his lip that takes every ounce of Brian’s self-control to ignore.  

Brian shrugs as though he doesn’t know exactly why he came, and why he stayed.  He does another shot from the bar and looks out at the club again, letting his eyes skim over everything that’s on display.

“ _Brian_!”  Freddie grabs his shirt and gives him a shake, demanding as ever.  “Why are you _here_?”  There’s a look on his face now like he knows, or at least suspects, but doesn’t dare say it aloud.  Because it’s crazy, it’s completely fucking insane and yet, here they both are.  

“I fucking hate him, you know,” Brian says, instead of replying.  The shots have made him feel pleasantly buzzed already so he abandons the final one in favour of his beer and nurses it for a moment, though it tastes awful after the tequila.

Freddie doesn’t have to ask who he means.  “I know.”  

“He brings you here?”

“Yes.”

“And you fuck.”  Brian already knows the answer to that, it’s not phrased like a question.

Freddie glances at him shrewdly.  “Sometimes,” he says.  “Sometimes I find someone else.  Depends what I’m in the mood for.”

“What are you in the mood for, Freddie?” Brian asks deliberately, turning to face him properly.  They’re stood so close the difference in their height feels more pronounced, Freddie’s chin tipped up to look at him, Brian looking down.  

Freddie swallows and looks away first.  “Another drink, I think.”

“You don’t need anything else to drink.  Why are you nervous?”

“I’m not _nervous_ , darling, this is practically my second home.”  

But he is, Brian can tell.  He knows Freddie too well to be lied to.  

“If you want to go off and shag someone, don’t let me stop you,” Brian tells him, though he hates to do so.  He doesn’t want Freddie to go off with _anyone_ (well, he kind of does want him to go off with _someone_ ) but he also doesn’t want to just stand here all night or there’s no point in coming.  Besides, while he’s not sure how he’ll feel about it, there is a small but loud part of him that wants to see.  Wants to see _Freddie_ , even if it is with someone else.  Wants to see what he does, how he works, what he likes.  

Brian’s pretty sure he already knows—God knows, Freddie goes to his knees like he was fucking born for it—but he wants to see for himself.  

“And leave you here all alone?” Freddie asks.  “Oh, my dear, a sweet thing like you, they’d eat you alive.”  

Brian really turns into Freddie then, sets his beer on the bar behind Freddie’s elbow and crowds him against the counter, his hands either side of him.  “Do you really think that?” he asks, and steps the last bit closer.

Freddie’s eyes go wide when he feels him and Brian arches an eyebrow, rocking his hips just gently into Freddie so he’ll finally get the fucking message.  

“I think I could handle them,” Brian carries on, because Freddie’s just staring at him in shock.  “You think you’re so naughty, don’t you, Fred?  Coming to a place like this.”  

Freddie gets ahold of himself enough to lift his hands and hold tight to Brian’s upper-arms and his hips stutter when Brian gives a little thrust against him.  

“You’re not the only one, you know,” Brian says, leaning down and speaking low in Freddie’s ear.  He debates with himself for a second, but only a second because he can’t stop himself, and lets his tongue dart out to catch the shell of Freddie’s ear.

Freddie jumps in surprise and Brian hears him let out a little cry because he’s listening for it so fucking hard.  

“God, _fuck_ , Bri,” Freddie gasps out.  “Have you been here before?”

Brian laughs.  “Not here,” he allows.  “But places like this are all the same, really.  You like to be told what to do, don’t you?”

Freddie nods slowly.  

“Good.”  Brian likes telling people what to do.  “Do you like this?”  He moves his hips again to rub his erection against Freddie a little harder and Freddie’s eyes flutter closed for a few beats before he nods again. 

“Good,” Brian says again.  “Unzip your jeans.”

Freddie’s eyes fly wide open at that.  “Brian—”

“Ssh,” Brian doubts Freddie can hear that over the beat of the club but it doesn’t matter.  He lifts his hand and cups his jaw.  “Don’t think about it.”

He holds Freddie’s gaze and keeps his expression steady even when he feels Freddie fumble with the button of his jeans, his hand moving against Brian’s crotch as he unzips them for him.  

Brian keeps his left hand where it is, holding Freddie’s chin, and slides his right into Freddie’s jeans to squeeze his cock.  

Freddie jumps again and bucks forward into his hand, mouth open and gasping and Brian wishes the fucking music would turn off so he could hear him properly.  

“Stop that,” Brian says, loosening his grip.  “Stand still.”

Freddie stills and Brian strokes him again.

Freddie tips his head back and Brian kisses his neck, runs his tongue along the column of his throat and that time he _feels_ it when Freddie groans for him.

“We should—we should go into the actual club, this is the bar,” Freddie says roughly, righting himself and staring at Brian, flushed and bleary-eyed.

“No.  You’re going to stay here with me.”  There are fewer people here, most of whom are just drinking or kissing, so it feels somehow more risky even though the entire club is dedicated to this and they’re not breaking any rules.  Brian doesn’t mind, in fact he quite likes that without the crowd people will almost certainly see what they’re doing, and the music’s quieter here.  It’s still loud but at least they can hear each other speak.

“This is crazy, Brian,” Freddie says, shaking his head.  “What are we doing?”  Even as he talks, though, he’s rolling his hips into Brian’s fist, trying for more.

Brian stops again.  “Stop.  Moving,” he growls, and nips Freddie’s ear for his trouble.  “Let me take care of you.”

“Fucking _hell_ ,” Freddie lets out with a slightly hysterical laugh.  His hips still and Brian uses his foot to nudge Freddie’s legs further apart.  “Your hands are so fucking big.”

Brian laughs at that.  It does help.  He hasn’t done _this_ to anyone else for a long time, and never exclusively; every sexual encounter he’s had with another man has been with a woman as well, but it doesn’t matter.  It’s _Freddie_ ; Brian’s always known how to handle him. 

“And your jeans are so fucking tight,” Brian responds.  It’s not easy to maneuver his hand, though if Freddie’s reactions are anything to go by he’s not doing a bad job.  “Pull them down.”

They haven’t discussed any of this and they _should_ , Brian knows they should, it’s irresponsible not to, but he can’t stop now and Freddie’s clearly enjoying himself.  He lets out a long groan at the command and lets his head fall forward onto Brian’s shoulder before sliding his thumbs into his waistband and wriggling his jeans down a little.

Brian considers making him drop them all the way but decides against it; it’s early days, yet.  And he does like to go slow.  He especially wants to go slow with Freddie; quick, impatient Freddie—he was practically _made_ to be teased.

“Good,” Brian breathes.  It’s much easier to move his hand like this and Freddie’s leaking a lot, easing the dry drag of his palm into something slick and messy.  Brian has to force himself to breathe slowly, to remain steady; it’s been a while since he did this, it’d be all too easy to get lost in it and he can’t afford that right now.  They haven’t even talked about this.

“Tell me what you do here,” Brian continues, shrugging his shoulder a bit to dislodge Freddie’s forehead, wanting to look at him.  He’s a fucking picture, beautiful as always, flushed and sweaty and not at all sure of himself with his cock in Brian’s hand.  It’s a good look on him.  

“I told you,” Freddie gasps.  “Fuck.”

“How?”

“God, _Brian_ —”

“How?”  Brian keeps up his steady rhythm and has to fight to keep his satisfaction from showing on his face when he realises he can feel Freddie struggling not to move his hips into the sensation.  So he can follow orders like this—if only he was so bloody obedient in the studio.  

“Just—whatever people want,” Freddie manages to tell him.  His grip on Brian’s arms is bordering on painful but Brian likes that, too, loves that he’s affecting Freddie this much.  

 _Whatever people want_.  

“Anything?  You let people do whatever they want to you?” Brian repeats, both turned on and concerned as hell about that.  

Freddie nods frantically, and pulls backward a little bit in an effort to stop himself from bucking his hips forward.  Brian simply goes with him, leans him back into the counter until there’s no room left and carries on stroking him.

“Would you let me?” he asks lowly.

Freddie tips his head back and Brian can’t resist, he’s only human and Freddie’s already covered in everyone else—he sucks hard just beneath his jaw, bites and has Freddie groaning, leaves his own mark.

“ _Fuck_ , yes,” Freddie grinds out.  “Yes, I would—God, Brian, I’m really close now.”

“That’s okay,” Brian assures him.  “Good.  You can come when you’re ready.”

Freddie’s throat bobs as he swallows and he glances down, hips stuttering as he does like he just can’t help himself once he’s _seen_ —fucking _hell_ , the sight of Brian’s ( _Brian’s!_ ) hand on him like that.  “It’ll get on you,” he says worriedly, nearly squirming now with the effort of trying to hold back.

“It’s fine, Freddie,” Brian tells him.  “Do it.”

That’s all it takes.  Freddie lurches forward and hastily buries his cry in Brian’s chest as he spills all over his bandmate’s hand, rocking into his fist now it’s not forbidden until he can’t stand it any more.  

Brian gives him one last squeeze before he lets him go, wiping his hand on Freddie’s bare chest before grasping the back of his neck and rubbing his thumb in soothing strokes while Freddie keeps his head down and catches his breath.  

“Oh God,” Freddie mutters; Brian can only hear him because his head is so close.  “Oh fuck.”  

Brian lowers his hand and rubs Freddie’s back.  “I know,” he says soothingly, as though Freddie’s in distress and not recovering from an orgasm.  “You’re alright.  That was good, Freddie, well done.”

Freddie lets out a low moan against his chest, Brian can feel the heat of his breath through his t-shirt, and he makes a mental note that he’d guessed already just from knowing him—Freddie likes praise.

He pulls back eventually and gives Brian a sheepish look, still a bit breathless.  “Oh fuck, I’m sorry, it’s all over you, darling.”

“I know, don’t worry.”  If they’d talked about this before Brian would tell him to clean it up.  As it is, he reaches around Freddie and grabs a wad of napkins from the bar to try and get the worst of it off while Freddie remains where he is, still hemmed in by him, and tries to wrap his head around what just happened.  

Freddie doesn’t move as Brian wipes himself off and chucks the soiled napkins back on the bar, nor when he tugs Freddie’s jeans back into place and carefully zips him back up.  He only reacts when Brian leans in to place a surprisingly gentle kiss on his mouth.

He kisses him back, equally gently, before his hand drifts onto Brian’s crotch.

“Are you…?”  He doesn’t have to finish the question; he can feel that Brian’s rock hard in his own jeans.

Brian catches his wrist before he can do anything.  “Not tonight.”  He knows what he’s doing, what he’s implying and, judging by the surprise on Freddie’s face, he does too.  “Do you want to stay or shall we go?”  Personally Brian wants to go away and _think_ about things— _needs_ to, actually, before this becomes something neither of them can control—but he has to admit there’s appeal in staying for a while.  He doubts it’d take long for Freddie to recover and he _is_ aching in his jeans, but it’d be too much, too soon.  God, he wants to, so fucking badly, but it’d be irresponsible.  Even more irresponsible than what they’ve done already.  

Brian really, really hopes they haven’t just ruined their friendship and tanked their careers in one fell swoop.  

Freddie looks at him, his arm still caught in Brian’s grip.  “I’ll get you off, Bri,” he says earnestly.  “I’m _very_ good.”

Freddie tugs his wrist and Brian doesn’t loosen his fingers around him but he does let Freddie move his hand downward, deliberately catching him again just as his fingers brush his jeans.  “Freddie,” he says lowly.  “Not tonight.  We need to talk.”

The words immediately make Freddie defensive and he yanks his hand back hard enough that it breaks Brian’s grip.  “Oh, spare me,” he says quickly.  “No need to overthink it, Bri.  You’re drunk, I’m drunk.  It’s fine, darling.”

He sidles out from where Brian’s had him blocked in and jerks his head toward the exit.  “Let’s get out of here, then.  The music’s shit anyway.”

His back is making its way through the crowd before Brian can stop him and he has to hurry before he loses him in a crowd of people who so nearly look _almost_ like him, but there’s no mistaking Freddie.  Even from behind, even in nothing but blue jeans and unstyled hair, in the dark, even _blind_ , Brian would know him.

Freddie doesn’t speak when they get outside and flag down Terry, who’s sitting in the car and parked just along the street reading a newspaper.  

Brian doesn’t push him to; he needs to process what just happened, himself, and Freddie’s clearly feeling a bit prickly and uncertain so it’s best to leave him to it for now.  

He pretends to be asleep in the car on the way back, which gives Brian free rein to stare at him all he likes, as he’s wont to do when his mind wanders.  Particularly when his mind wanders toward Freddie, which it usually does.

He needs to think about all this, they both do, and they need to talk about it, but not tonight.  Brian just lets his hand creep over the seat between them to take hold of Freddie’s and twine their fingers together.

Freddie doesn’t open his eyes but he gives Brian’s hand a brief squeeze and for now, that’s enough.

Good sense can return in the morning.  For tonight, there’s this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If anyone wants to talk about Queen or Brian and Freddie or just chat feel free to come and find me over on [tumblr](https://freddie-mercurial.tumblr.com), my url is freddie-mercurial :D

 

 

They don’t talk about it.They go their separate ways in the hotel and for all Brian knows, Freddie fucks someone else while he lies in bed and clings to the memory.

They don’t talk about it the next day in the studio, either.  Freddie shows up late but he seems well-rested, not like he’d stayed up all night after Brian left him.  The hickey Brian gave him is dark and distinct on his neck, right in plain sight even in a normal t-shirt.  Nobody questions it because Freddie often shows up with marks like that but Brian _knows_ and it takes his breath away.

He can’t stop looking at it.  They’re meant to be working on their newest song, one of Roger’s, but Brian can’t focus on anything except that bruise on Freddie’s throat.  That is _his_ , he did that to him.  He touched him, had Freddie come in his hand last night, and now they’re here and acting like everything’s normal when everything’s _changed_ and Brian isn’t sure where to go from here.  

He can’t seem to get Freddie alone; he’s good at slipping away somehow, despite how intently Brian’s been watching him.Probably _too_ intently—Roger corners him while Freddie’s off getting a beer.

“Christ, Brian, will you cool it?” he says, tugging on his elbow to pull him to one side.

“What?” Brian asks, genuinely dumbfounded.“I haven’t done anything!”He really hasn’t; he’s been distracted all day.

“ _Freddie_.You can’t keep worrying about him like this, you’ll make yourself ill,” Roger says lowly.“And you’re going to freak him out if you keep staring at him like that.Did you guys get in a fight or something?”

“ _What_?” Brian says again.  “I haven’t been staring at him.”  That’s a lie and they both know it.  

Graciously, Roger ignores it.“You’ve just got to leave him be, he’ll get it out of his system eventually.”

“I know,” Brian says, nodding.“I’m not going to nag him any more, alright?I know it doesn’t do any good.”

Roger doesn’t look like he believes him but he doesn’t say anything else on the matter, chiefly because Freddie chooses that moment to walk in with Paul, beers in hand, and Roger turns around to take one.

Brian feels cold to the core, sick with jealous fury when he looks at Paul, when he looks at Freddie who won’t even spare him a glance.  What the fuck is going on here?  If last night was nothing and they’re going to agree to ignore it then _fine_ , but Brian would _quite_ like it if Freddie would at least fucking acknowledge that.  He owes him that much, if nothing else.  

He’s useless for the rest of the evening; his fingers won’t move right on his guitar and nothing sounds the way he wants, he picks apart the slightest things—nothing’s good enough.Brian knows it’s because he’s just generally dissatisfied but knowing that doesn’t help.

Freddie doesn’t get angry with him, though.Usually if Brian told him the vocal was off he’d argue and come and listen to it back, fight with Brian over the smallest thing until they could agree on what needed to be changed.But today there’s none of that; Brian says it’s off and Freddie just agrees and tells him to start the track over, sings it again. 

And again, and again.

It’s John who weighs in eventually.“Brian, it sounds fine,” he says firmly, leaning over him to press the button so he can talk to Freddie.“Sounds great, Fred,” he says cheerfully.“Definitely loads to work with there.”

Freddie takes off his headphones and _finally_ glances at Brian.

Brian knows he’s been being unreasonable—awful, actually—and nods at him.

Freddie doesn’t talk about the song when he comes into the control room.He just looks around at his bandmates and the technicians and raises an eyebrow.“Are we done for today, then?”

He barely waits for a response before he’s out the door, Paul hot on his heels, and Brian can only listen as they walk away. 

He knows, with a horrible certainty, where they’re going.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Brian thinks that Freddie’ll come to him eventually—he’ll _have_ to.They can’t just carry on and act like nothing happened, not without ever addressing it. 

But two weeks of this forced, stilted version of normal pass before he realises it’s not going to happen.Freddie’s weird with him.He doesn’t argue with him, though he occasionally rolls his eyes and scoffs, but he doesn’t _talk_ to him either.He’s too polite, too _careful_.He doesn’t look at him unless he absolutely has to and barely speaks when Brian’s in the room.

Brian hates it.This isn’t what he wanted at all and it fills him with terror to think that this is it now.This is what their friendship, which has always been so precious to him, has come to.

He refuses to let that be the case.They can’t have ruined it, they just _can’t_.Brian doesn’t know what he’d do without Freddie in his life, despairs at the mere thought of it.He’s spent night after night lying in bed, unable to sleep, thinking it over and over and over.Thinking about what they’d done, about _Freddie_ , about what else he wants to do to him. 

He goes out and drinks more than he should, doesn’t discourage any of the women who come onto him but as soon as it nearly leads somewhere Brian baulks and gets the hell out of dodge.That’s not what he wants.He knows _exactly_ what he wants.This isn’t where he wants to be.

He moves a woman’s hand off his thigh and excuses himself, slipping out of the booth she’d cornered him in and disappears, ostensibly to go to the bathroom but he walks right out the door into the night.

The air refreshes him and he breathes deeply, leans against the wall outside for a few moments just trying to collect himself.  A group of men stand in a loose circle nearby, smoking and laughing, and Brian taps one of them on the shoulder and asks for a cigarette.  He doesn’t usually smoke but he needs _something_ , something to do with his mouth, with his hands.  

One of the men slips one out and another lends him a lighter which Brian takes, flicking it a few times before he manages to get the flame to catch. 

“Cheers,” he says, taking a long drag and letting it out quick before it makes him cough.He hands the lighter back and turns away from them.

“Hey,” one of them says slowly.“Hey, aren’t you Brian May?”

Brian keeps walking and doesn’t look back.He doesn’t know where he’s going but he’s in the middle of the city; everything’s close.He could go anywhere, do anything.He could get into any club he wanted, find any _one_ he wanted and have them—he’s a famous fucking rockstar. 

But he winds up walking back along the familiar route to the studio.  What he thinks he’s going to do in there, he has no idea; he’s been useless in the studio, lately.  He has nothing to add, nothing to offer.  Songs have always been labours of love for him, never really coming easily in a flash like Freddie’s seem to do, but they always come to him eventually.  He’ll have an idea that he’ll worry at and pick apart and Freddie will peer over his shoulder and coax him through the tune and argue with him about the lyrics and all of a sudden, they have it.  But Freddie won’t speak to him, and so the music won’t either.  

He’s like an artist without his muse.

He’s being dramatic, he knows, but he thinks he might be entitled to a little dramatics after everything. 

Brian tosses the cigarette away before it can burn his fingers, having barely touched it the entire way, and grinds it out with the heel of his shoe.It didn’t help, it won’t soothe the itch.He knows what will. 

But Freddie’s off somewhere in the night, probably in the very same club Brian hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since, probably with somebody else, another man, with his head thrown back and his eyes closed and mouth open around a moan and Brian hates it, he wants to break something, he _needs_ to be able to write music or this will never be bled out of him, and there’s a light on in the studio. 

He stops dead, staring at the squares of yellow.  And he knows, somehow, that it’s Freddie.  It could only be Freddie, nobody else would bother coming in this late.  It’s unusual, nowadays—Freddie’s seemed less and less interested in what they’re recording as the weeks go by at the moment, but Brian knows it’s him.  He also knows that Paul could be with him, or whoever else tonight’s conquest might have been, but he doesn’t care.  He marches up to the door with only one thought in mind; he’s going to sort this with Freddie, and he’s going to sort it _now_.  

He opens the door a bit hard, filled with a heady rush of righteous anger and determination, but the sound of it banging against the wall is lost under the sound of the speakers blaring out what’s been laid down so far for _Body Language_.  It’s Freddie’s track, and one Brian’s had nothing to do with yet—not that Freddie seems to want his input.  Brian doesn’t love it, but then he doesn’t really love anything they’re doing with this album.  The entire band feels like it’s splintering and Brian thinks he might be able to learn to cope with that if he could just keep Freddie, but if he and Freddie are splintering too then none of it is worth it.  If it’s finished now then Brian wishes he could take it all back, every single day and song and gig until they’re just students again, living in their shitty flat and toasting mouldy bread as though that’ll make it taste any better, listening to battered old records and talking about how they’ll be famous someday.  

Maybe that Brian will work up the courage to say or do something sooner, because he has less to lose. 

Freddie isn’t that student any more, young and bright-eyed and utterly possessed by the idea of their fame, of all the things they’ll do together, the places they’ll go.He hasn’t sat with Brian and just _listened_ to an old Hendrix record in...God, years.But Brian knew him then better than he knew himself, and that’s never changed. 

He’s leant over the console with his head down, cigarette smoke drifting around him in a cloud, still wearing the clothes he’d been in earlier.He hasn’t noticed Brian yet so Brian takes a moment to just look at him, admiring the shape of him, the mere _fact_ of him—how did they ever get lucky enough to stumble across him?

His voice is crooning through the sound system, sexy and suggestive, just the sort of song he’s been dying to write.Something they can play in the clubs, something he’ll let another man fuck him to, and Brian hates it all the more for that.

He loves Freddie’s voice but he’s glad when the tape runs out and quiet reigns, just Freddie’s quiet sigh and the soft hiss as he stubs his cigarette out.

“Freddie,” Brian says, and Freddie nearly jumps out of his skin.

He whirls around, shocked, but doesn’t get any time to process because Brian’s already crossed the room to him, put both hands firmly on his waist and pushed him back against the wall so he can kiss him. 

It’s rough, Brian’s angry with him after two weeks spent being ignored, but Freddie gasps into it, into him, tries to press forward until Brian grabs his wrists and pins them above his head.Anyone else could be in the studio, could be right next door, but he doesn’t care.He slides his tongue into Freddie’s mouth, pushes his knee between his thighs, and kisses him hungrily because he’s been starving for him, for this.

Freddie doesn’t mind, doesn’t protest; he opens his mouth and tries to catch his breath and moans like Brian’s doing something much more than just kissing him. 

“You like this?” Brian asks roughly, pulling away.He gives Freddie’s wrists a hard squeeze to show what he means and feels Freddie’s knees nearly buckle—it’s lucky Brian has his thigh between his legs.“Do you?”

“You know I do,” Freddie says desperately, blinking rapidly and trying to recapture Brian’s mouth.

Brian pulls back so he can’t, staring him down.“You liked it with me?” he demands.

“Brian—”

“Did you like it with me?” Brian repeats loudly.

“ _Yes_ , fucking hell, _obviously_ I did!” Freddie snaps at him. 

That tone makes Brian want to yank him forward and slap his ass but he refrains—they need to _talk_.  Freddie needs to not fucking _ignore_ him.  

“Then why haven’t you even _looked_ at me since?” Brian asks furiously.“If you want to forget it ever happened then _fine_ but be a fucking man about it and _tell_ me, Freddie.”Though, if the way Freddie’s already rock hard against him is anything to go by, that’s not the case. 

Freddie’s just staring at him.He looks a little dazed but he’s shaking his head.“I don’t...Brian, it’s— _you’re_ the reason I didn’t say anything,” he manages to get out.“I knew what you’d say, I was just saving us both the effort.”

Which is just typical Freddie, really.  Always knows best.  Brian scoffs a laugh.“What did you think I’d say, Freddie?” he asks, in a tone of very forced patience. 

“You’re _straight_ ,” Freddie bursts out.

Brian wasn’t expecting _that_.He arches his eyebrows.“ _Which_ part of me jerking you off made you think that?” he asks in disbelief. 

“You wouldn’t even let me _touch_ you,” Freddie says raggedly.“And you said you wanted to talk.”

“I _do_ want to talk—about _this_ , you little fool,” Brian tells him, and kisses him again, harder than before.He thinks he might have cut his lip on one of their teeth, he can taste blood, but he doesn’t care. 

“What—about—this?”Freddie can barely get the words out, Brian won’t stop kissing him, and he groans as Brian shifts his thigh to fully press against his crotch.His wrists are still pinned above his head and Freddie’s so fucking turned on by it, by the fact that this is _Brian_ , that he’s concerned he’s going to embarrass himself by coming just like that.

When they finally break apart they’re both breathing heavily, flushed with arousal.  “Everything about this,” Brian clarifies when he thinks he’ll be able to speak steadily.  “I need to know what’s okay with you.”

“Anything,” Freddie says at once, and tries for another kiss which Brian deflects.

“Not good enough,” he says.“I mean a proper talk, Freddie.We need to set limits, boundaries.There are things I want to do that you might not be comfortable with—”

“You can do whatever you like to me, darling,” Freddie assures him, and manages to steal a kiss this time because Brian doesn’t pull back fast enough.“I’ve done it all.”

This is precisely why Brian wanted to talk about this; Freddie’s attitude worries him. _Whatever people want_.What about what _Freddie_ wants?Brian suspects nobody’s ever actually asked him. 

“I don’t care what you’ve already done,” Brian says firmly.“With me, you do it properly.”

“ _Do it_ , then,” Freddie challenges, but Brian’s not going to rise to that, not when he finally has Freddie right here and listening to him.  It’s not a conversation they should probably have while Freddie’s straddling his thigh but nothing in the world could pull Brian back at this point. 

“No,” Brian tells him.  

“God!”Freddie twists his wrists in Brian’s grip but he won’t budge.“At least let me touch you.”

“No,” Brian says again, unrelenting.  “You haven’t earned that yet.”

Freddie gapes at him and stops struggling.“Earned it?”

Now he’s listening. 

“We’ll do it properly,” Brian says determinedly.It’s a mammoth effort not to kiss him like this, just staring up at him in surprise, lips parted and pink and wet.“Tell me what you don’t do.”

It’ll take time to know everything, to learn all the things Freddie won’t try, but at least Brian won’t be stumbling in the dark.

“What part of ‘I’ll do anything’ _don’t_ you understand?” Freddie retorts.

Brian purses his lips.“Right. Spanking, do you do that?”

“Of course.”

Freddie doesn’t seem to get what Brian’s implying because he gives a little gasp of shock as he’s hauled forward, away from the wall, and yelps when Brian’s hand comes sailing down on his ass, hard.He has his jeans on but Brian’s hand still stings like hell so he can only imagine how it felt to Freddie.

He pushes him right back against the wall after and arches his eyebrows.“Let’s try again,” he says.“Tell me what you don’t do.”

“Fucking _hell_ , Brian!” Freddie says breathlessly, letting out a tiny groan when Brian captures his wrists and pins him again.“I don’t _know_ , I really will do anything, I don’t, um…”He’s desperately searching for some response but he can barely catch his breath.“Nothing—nothing with someone else, I don’t like trying to fit two at once, it’s too much.”

“Fine.”Brian doesn’t intend to share him, anyway.

He seems to be waiting for something else and Freddie’s head falls forward with a defeated groan.“I can’t think of anything else!I don’t know what to _tell_ you, Brian!”

“Okay,” Brian says, dropping his tone back a bit to be more soothing.“Okay, that’s fine, Freddie.We’ll figure it out.What do you like to use as a safeword?”

Freddie looks up again at that and rolls his eyes.“Oh, you needn’t bother with all that rubbish, Bri.I’m not a fucking virgin.”

Brian’s lips go thin.“Pick one,” he says seriously, “or we’re not doing anything.”

“Honestly, Brian, I can handle whatever you give me, don’t worry.”  He twists his wrists again and this time Brian lets go of him, stepping back.

Freddie looks bereft, almost stumbling after him like he can’t hold his own weight up all of a sudden.“No!” he says quickly.“Bri, please.Fine.What—what do you usually say?”

Brian looks at him intently for a few moments.“Depends on the sub,” he says eventually.“Do you usually just say stop to stop a scene?”

Freddie shrugs. 

“ _Freddie_.”

“I don’t know!”Freddie closes the distance between them and kisses him in lieu of talking any more, but Brian doesn’t let him get away with it for more than a few seconds, gently taking his face in his hands and pushing him away.

“What do you do if it gets too much?How will you let me know?” Brian asks.

“I can _take_ it—”

“I don’t care what you think you can take,” Brian interrupts him.“For my own peace of mind, we’re having one.” _Especially_ given Freddie’s blasé attitude to all of this.Brian gets the nasty feeling that he’s never had a safeword before, though whether or not he’s needed to use one is another matter altogether.“What about colours?” he suggests, when Freddie doesn’t reply. 

“Fine,” Freddie agrees at once, pushing free of Brian’s grip to kiss him again.

“Red to stop,” Brian says, breaking away for just a moment before kissing him again.“Yellow if you need a moment,” he adds a second later.“If you say stop or no, I’ll stop too,” he says, kissing him so forcefully Freddie’s back meets the wall again.

Freddie’s humming his agreement, running his hands up Brian’s sides until use of them is taken from him and he finds himself pinned once again. 

“Fuck, do you even realise how hot that is?” he breathes, trying to grind his hips into Brian since he can’t do much else.

Brian chuckles into his mouth and slides his leg back between Freddie’s thighs.He’s going to need to let go of him soon if he wants to do anything but he’s in no rush so he just stays like that for a while, just kissing Freddie exactly as he’s wanted to so desperately for so fucking long now, occasionally flexing his thigh up into him to make sure Freddie’s still hard.

Eventually he pulls back, forcing his breathing slow.“Take your shirt off,” he says, letting go of Freddie’s hands so he can.

Freddie’s quick to comply, stripping his t-shirt over his head in one smooth motion.Brian takes it from him and tosses it to one side, running his hands over the skin that’s exposed and leaning in to lick a stripe up Freddie’s neck.He bites him, just gently, under his jaw again because his mark has faded and Brian wants to see it back, but he pulls back when he feels Freddie’s hands on him, sliding under his own shirt.

“No,” he says, pushing Freddie’s hands away and having to catch hold of them again when Freddie just drops them lower and tries to grasp his crotch.“I said _no_ , Freddie.”

Freddie gapes at him.“Won’t you let me fucking _touch_ you?”

“Not yet, no,” Brian says calmly.  “You’ll have to wait.”

“You _will_ , though,” Freddie says. 

It’s too much of an order for Brian’s liking.He’d considered fucking Freddie tonight but now he immediately makes up his mind not to; he needs to learn a bit of patience.

Brian doesn’t comment on it any further.“Jeans off, too.”He assumes, correctly, that Freddie isn’t wearing underwear—he honestly isn’t even sure Freddie _owns_ pants—so he’s naked once he shucks his trousers and kicks them aside with his socks and trainers. 

Freddie’s not shy about his body, he never really has been—his teeth, yes, and his _looks_ if he’s been drinking gin and having a bad night, but not his body.He frequently strips down on stage and struts around half-clothed but this is different; Brian’s made sure of it.

This isn’t just Freddie prancing about in tiny shorts and shimmying to Big Spender to titillate the crowd; this is private.  It’s intimate.  Brian’s fully clothed down to his shoes and makes sure to let his eyes roam, looking and looking until Freddie’s near squirming with the attention and stepping in to re-close the gap between them, to hide his nakedness between their bodies, but Brian won’t let him.

He puts a hand on Freddie’s chest when he tries and pushes lightly until he’s backed against the wall once again.“Just there, Freddie, that’s it,” he says, dropping his hand and eyeing him thoughtfully.

“Fuck sake, Brian, get on with it,” Freddie says unsteadily. 

“Get on with what?” Brian asks curiously. 

“ _Fucking me_ ,” Freddie growls.  

Brian laughs.“I’m not fucking you tonight, baby,” he says gently.“I told you—you have to earn that.”

“Earn it _how_?” Freddie demands, infuriated.

“By being good.  Open your legs.”

Freddie swallows and Brian thinks he’s going to argue but then he shifts, widening his legs just slightly.

Brian steps forward and puts a finger on Freddie’s mouth, and Freddie rightly guesses what he’s meant to do, parting his lips and taking it inside.  He sucks hard and uses his tongue, trying to show Brian how fucking _good_ he’ll give it to him if he’d only give him the fucking _chance_ , but the finger’s gone before he can do very much.

Freddie’s expecting it but it still makes him catch his breath when Brian’s hand drifts between his thighs and he presses just _slightly_ against him.

“Hmm...wider, I think,” he muses.

Freddie lets out a shaky breath.  “Are you going to fuck me?”

“Just do as you’re told,” Brian says shortly.  

Freddie doesn’t push the point; he obediently widens his legs and bites down on his lip when Brian’s hand dips between them again.  This time his finger probes around, searches him out, slow and curious, and Freddie clenches his fist in Brian’s t-shirt and leans his head back against the wall.

Brian stops immediately.  “Let go of me, Freddie,” he says lowly.  

“Fucking hell, I need to _touch_ you,” Freddie nearly sobs, loosening his hand all the same.  

Brian takes pity on him.  “You can kiss me,” he allows, sucking his own finger this time before Freddie lunges for his mouth.  They clash roughly and Brian stops him again.  “ _Gently_ ,” he iterates.  “Like this.”  He kisses Freddie, chastely, just pressing their lips together and enjoying the feel of him, doesn’t even use his tongue.

Freddie groans but catches on, calms himself down a little bit, and when Brian’s sure he’s going to behave he starts pushing his finger into him again.

Even with only saliva as a lubricant, it’s not very difficult to get it the whole way in—Freddie must’ve gone out with someone earlier.  Brian despises the thought but schools himself; it’s horribly tempting to stop what he’s doing and throw Freddie down on the floor to _have_ him but if he wants to teach Freddie patience, he needs to have some himself.  He has him now, at least.

Besides, it’s still enough to make Freddie groan—Brians fingers _are_ very long, and Freddie’s squeezing tight around him, pushing back into the pressure.  

He gets caught up in it, opens his mouth and tries to deepen their kiss but Brian breaks it again, shaking his head.  It’s a useful few seconds he uses to catch his breath, stroking at Freddie with his thumb while he lets his finger go still inside him.  “Gently,” he reminds him, kissing him again to show him.  It’s far too innocent, nothing at all like what Freddie wants (or _thinks_ he wants), but that’s the point.  He needs to learn.

Freddie huffs but nods, letting himself be kissed like he’s some shy virgin even while he stands there with one of Brian’s fingers inside him.

He groans when Brian starts to feel around again, hands creeping up just to rest on Brian’s chest but that’s still too much and Brian stops again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Freddie grits out, trying to chase his mouth.  “Brian, _please_.”

“I told you,” Brian says, gathering both of Freddie’s wrists in one hand and pulling them back above his head.He doesn’t hold on tightly, but he shouldn’t need to—if Freddie still doesn’t get the message and tries to move them again, Brian will happily punish him for it.“You have to earn that.I thought you were going to be good?”

“I _am_ ,” Freddie whines softly.

“Good,” Brian breathes, taking up kissing him again, gratified to feel Freddie bearing down on him as he searches out the right little spot to tease.“This is all you need, isn’t it, Freddie?” he asks quietly, so quietly he can barely hear himself between their breathy kisses.

“No, Bri, I need m—”

“Ssh,” Brian stops him with his mouth over his.  “I know what you need.  You need this, don’t you?”

Freddie groans his reluctant agreement.“Yes, _fuck_.”

“Just this,” Brian says softly, and knows he finds Freddie’s prostate because he gasps and twitches all over, then loosens for Brian like he’s just slipped into a warm bath.“That’s it,” he murmurs, stroking him gently.“You’re being so good for me.”

Freddie lets out a strangled moan at that, clenching suddenly around Brian’s finger, but Brian doesn’t stop, he keeps with his steady rhythm until Freddie relaxes again. 

“I want you to ask me before you come,” Brian tells him, so close their lips brush as he talks.

“Fuck, okay,” Freddie agrees shakily, nodding his head.“But I need your cock, _please_.I’ve been good, haven’t I?”

Brian tuts at him but laughs into Freddie’s mouth.“I don’t think so,” he says slowly.“I don’t want you to keep asking, Freddie, I just want you to take what you’re given and thank me for it.”

“But I _need_ it, Brian,” Freddie insists, gritting his teeth together as Brian presses against just the right spot inside him and his toes curl, brain short-circuiting for a moment.He needs Brian’s cock _now_ or it’s going to be too late.“I need more.At least let me _see_ it!”

“No,” Brian says resolutely.“You’ll get it when I decide you’re ready.All you need is _this_.”He crooks his finger as he speaks and Freddie makes a beautiful sound, high and desperate, and as he throws his head back Brian picks a nice, obvious spot on his throat and sucks hard, biting down until Freddie’s gasping for breath. 

“I don’t hear you thanking me,” Brian says when he pulls back, breathless himself.

“Thank you,” Freddie gasps at once.  “God, _fuck_ Brian, you’re good at this.  I can make you feel so good, I swear, why won’t you _let_ me—”

“ _Stop_ asking for more,” Brian cuts over him.God, he’s a brat.He should’ve seen it coming; Freddie’s never exactly been _easy_ to work with.But Brian’s always liked a challenge.“Just trust me.”He’s still working his finger just slowly, keeping up a very sedate rhythm and occasionally rubbing over Freddie’s sweet spot to edge him very patiently toward the edge. 

He takes up kissing him again, still chaste, though Freddie’s less responsive now, his eyes unfocused and drifting closed for seconds at a time. 

“Are you getting close, Freddie?” Brian asks mildly.

Freddie nods and his eyes open a slit. 

“Good.  You haven’t forgotten our rule, have you?”

“No,” Freddie murmurs.He swallows and shifts a bit, makes his legs a tiny bit wider and squeezes around Brian’s finger.

“Good boy.I told you this is all you need,” Brian says, watching Freddie’s reactions very carefully to make sure he’s hitting him in the right spot.“Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Freddie breathes.“Can I come?”

“Not yet,” Brian says, though he doesn’t make any effort not to press Freddie in just the right way.“Just a little longer.You’re so close, aren’t you?”

Freddie nods and watches him desperately.“ _Please_ ,” he whispers.

“Nearly,” Brian promises.“I told you this is all you need.You’re not ready for my cock yet, are you?”

Freddie shakes his head, all previous arguments forgotten in the face of just saying whatever it is Brian wants to hear, of wanting whatever it is Brian wants him to want.

“No,” Brian agrees, and runs his tongue over Freddie’s lip.“You can come now, sweetheart,” he says, and kisses him properly.

It’s not loud or dramatic when he does; Freddie almost sighs into it, going limp and collapsing into Brian who quickly lets go of his wrists to get an arm around his waist before he falls.Freddie’s trembling all over, breathing hard into Brian’s neck, his release over both of their stomachs.

Several minutes go by before he regains himself enough to wind an arm around him. 

“Back with me?” Brian asks, rubbing his free hand up and down his back.He’s covered in sweat that’s quickly cooling, he’ll be cold soon.“Freddie?”

Freddie just grunts and Brian chuckles, carefully maneuvering them both down so he can sit on the floor with his back against the wall and hold Freddie like that.“Well done,” he says, alternately kissing his hair and running a hand through it.“Well done, Freddie, you were so good.That was fucking amazing.”

Brian’s still rock hard in his jeans, it’s almost painful having Freddie in his lap like this, but he’s not going to have any problem getting off later after _that_.  It’s tempting to do something about it _now_ , to have Freddie like this, while he’s soft and sweet and already exhausted, but he resists.  He’s going to make him wait for it.  

“Where did you learn to do that?” Freddie mumbles eventually, muffled against Brian’s chest which rumbles as he laughs.

“I’ll tell you sometime,” he promises. 

“Fuck, darling,” Freddie sighs out.“Do you do it with other people?”

“Sometimes.”Not for a little while—there rarely seems to be the time for such indulgence these days; by the time they’re done with a gig Brian’s too tired to bother looking for anything more than a quickie and even while they’re based in one city recording it just seems a lot of effort.He _has_ missed it, though; he hasn’t even gotten off yet and he feels like he’s glowing, already wondering when they can do this again.

Because that’s his other problem; he gets addicted.Very, very easily.

“I hate them,” Freddie says resolutely, pouting a bit.

Brian understands; he hates every other man who’s ever touched Freddie, who’s ever known this part of him, sleepy and almost drunk in the afterglow.He wants it for himself, entirely for himself, but Freddie’s never been that sort of creature.

He strokes his thumb down Freddie’s cheek and sits in silent awe that he can, that they’re here.For now, at least.He doesn’t want to think about later, about _after_ , when Freddie’s not in his arms any more and Brian has to learn to readjust to that empty space.

But they can’t stay here forever.Brian stretches it out as long as he can, until his erection’s only half-there and he can feel Freddie start to shiver. 

“We should get back,” he says regretfully, helping Freddie sit up straight.  

He looks a bit more lucid now but not by much; Brian hadn’t been expecting it to hit him so hard given the sort of clubs Freddie goes to, especially as they hadn’t done anything particularly intense.Not to _him_ , anyway.Brian’s beginning to wonder if perhaps Freddie’s experience of all this has been markedly different from his own; less kinky and just plain _rough_. 

“Freddie?  How are you feeling, baby?” he asks softly, running the pads of his fingers over the back of Freddie’s neck.  “Is this a bit new for you?”

Freddie nods, his head lolling a bit, and Brian kisses his forehead.

“Okay,” he says calmly.“You’re doing so well, Fred.I bet you just want to sleep, don’t you?”

“Mm,” Freddie hums in the back of his throat.He’s blinking hard, trying to make his eyes wide so he can wake himself up.

“You can soon,” Brian promises.“I’m going to call us a taxi, okay?”The hotel’s walking distance but Freddie’s not in any fit state for the journey.“Let’s get up, come on.We need to get you dressed.”

He manages to get Freddie on his feet and he seems steady enough, which is good, though he’s very quiet.Not necessarily concerning but Brian’s never been around Freddie like this before and he has no idea what his experience with subspace is like, so he’s got a watchful eye on him as he uses the studio phone to dial for a taxi.

“Ten minutes,” he says after he hangs up, and grabs Freddie’s jeans from the floor.“Let’s get these back on you, come on.”

Freddie takes them from him without comment, leans back against the wall and shimmies into them, but then just stands there until Brian hands him his t-shirt as well and helps him get it on over his head.Brian doesn’t bother with his socks, which are only going to be a faff, and ends up kneeling down to tie Freddie’s shoelaces up himself. 

“Good boy,” he can’t help but murmur as he straightens up, stealing a quick little kiss and taking Freddie’s hand.“You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Freddie says, nodding slowly.“Thanks, Bri.”

“Anytime,” Brian says, and truly means it.  If he’s being honest with himself, he loves this part almost as much as the sex, especially with someone like Freddie, whose submission doesn’t come easily.  To have him like this now, sweet and dependent in heady afterglow, is a privilege Brian doesn’t take lightly.

He turns everything off and guides Freddie outside to meet their car, which is already idling on the curb.  They sit together in the back and Brian holds Freddie’s hand in both of his own, but this time when they get to the hotel, they don’t go in separate directions.

Freddie nearly plasters himself to Brian’s side in the elevator and walks with him to Brian’s room, following him inside.Brian’s secretly relieved; he’d not been sure how Freddie would take being asked back to his room and he hadn’t wanted to leave him alone after tonight.It means he’ll have to wait until tomorrow to finish himself off, but it’s easy to ignore now, even when Freddie strips down and crawls into Brian’s bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like he sleeps there every night.

Brian can’t help but smile at him as he nearly disappears under the covers, peering sweetly out with tired eyes.He undresses down to his boxers—he meant it when he told Freddie he was going to have to wait to even see him—and climbs into bed as well.

He opens his arm and Freddie turns into him, burying his face in his chest.

“Are we going to have to talk about this?” Freddie asks suspiciously. 

“Ooh, yes,” Brian tells him.They have a _lot_ to talk about.“But not right now.You need to sleep.”

Freddie sighs but Brian feels him press a tiny, secret kiss to his collarbone.He doesn’t mention it, just kisses him back, just behind the ear.

“Goodnight, Freddie.”

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

When Freddie first wakes up, it takes a few minutes for last night to come back to him.  He can’t remember sleeping so well in months and he basks in it for a little while, not bothering to open his eyes, just lies there and lets himself come awake slowly.  

He can tell there’s someone else in bed with him, can feel the slight dip of the mattress, the warmth of another body, but that’s not unusual; Freddie hates sleeping alone.

The memory creeps in slowly, like memories of a drunken night except he doesn’t feel hungover this morning, he feels remarkably good.  And he remembers feeling good last night, _really_ good, and relaxed.  Definitely sex had been involved; his limbs are all still loose and satisfied from it.  There had been a taxi ride. But he’d been in the studio...

Freddie’s eyes fly open.

Brian’s looking back at him from the opposite pillow.

For a long moment, neither of them speak.

“That wasn’t just a fantastic dream, then?” Freddie asks slowly, sitting up.  “Fucking hell, did we really have sex?” _Again_.  They seem to be making a habit of it. 

“No,” Brian says.  “But I fingered you until you came,” he adds casually.

Freddie gives a tiny gasp at that, at the sheer unashamed truth of it, and turns to stare at Brian in shock.

“How are you feeling?” Brian asks.  He’s not shy at all, watching Freddie from where he’s propped lazily amongst hotel pillows, bare chested where Freddie’s pulled the sheets away by sitting up and hair an absolute wild mess that no comb will be able to tame.  

He’s beautiful and Freddie isn’t entirely sure that he’s not dreaming.  Still dreaming. He rubs his eyes and considers the question. “Good, actually,” he admits.

“Yeah?” Brian checks.  “Things got a bit intense last night.  I wanted to talk to you before...well. Before we did anything else.”  Of course he’d somewhat royally fucked that up by charging on in last night but he thinks it went okay.  Dares to hope, the tiniest bit, that _they_ might be okay; Freddie hasn’t run screaming, at least.

“You’re such a stickler for the rules, darling,” Freddie sighs, only half teasing.  “Can’t we just...have fun?” He leans into Brian as he speaks, one hand sliding toward him, seeking his body beneath the covers, fingertips running suggestively along his thigh until Brian stops him.

“No,” he says resolutely.  “That comes after. We have _got_ to talk about this, Freddie.”

“ _Why_?  Didn’t you have fun?” Freddie demands.

Brian doesn’t let go of his wrist.  “Yes I did,” he says simply. “And I’d like to do it with you again.  But I don’t just do this for _fun_ , Freddie.  I’m serious about it.  I want you to be serious as well.”

Freddie pouts and tugs his wrist; Brian lets go at once, trying to mentally prepare himself to see Freddie rolling out of bed and telling him over his shoulder that he’s not really into it all that much, thanks but no thanks, but he doesn’t.

He turns around to face Brian, sitting cross-legged on the bed, the blankets just barely keeping him modest, and arches an expectant eyebrow.

Brian can already tell he’s gearing himself up to be as stubborn as possible because he’s expecting an argument.  

“What, then?” Freddie asks.

Brian sits up straighter as well.  “You slipped quite far last night, Fred,” he says bluntly.  “And we hadn’t done much. Which is fine, but I wasn’t expecting it.  I’m sorry, that’s on me; I assumed you’d done this before. Have you?”

Freddie rolls his eyes, which Brian ignores even though he hates it when Freddie does that.  If they _do_ decide to do this, that is one of the _first_ things he will be dealing with.

“You wouldn’t be the first person to rough me up, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says dismissively.

“No,” Brian says steadily, “that is _not_ what I’m asking.  I don’t mean I want to have a quick shag and pull your hair in the back of a club, Freddie.  I mean have you ever been Dommed before? _Properly_.”

Freddie just glares at him, defensive, and Brian has a sudden realisation.

“Do you know what I mean by Domming?”

“ _Obviously_ I know what you mean,” Freddie says at once.  “You _do_ remember the club I took you to, don’t you?”

“Vividly.”

“I know what they do.  The people in the masks and all that, calling each other ‘Master’,” Freddie says, still a touch defensive.  

That’s not _exactly_ what Brian meant, but he can go from here.

“Okay,” he says patiently.  “And have you ever done that before?”

Freddie huffs.  “Just because I’ve never worn a _mask_ doesn’t mean—”

“Answer the question, Freddie,” Brian cuts him off.  “Have you ever, _properly_ , done that before?”

“Well I’ve never sat down and had a drawn-out fucking conversation about _fucking_ before,” Freddie retorts, and he’s trying to be sarcastic but it gives Brian exactly what he was after.

“Right,” he says.  “So no, you _haven’t_ done it properly, then.”  At least they’re starting to get somewhere.  Brian could kick himself for not realising the depth of Freddie’s inexperience; there’s no excuse for it.  “I’m sorry, Freddie,” he says seriously. “If I’d known that, I would have taken things slower.”

“Slower!” Freddie repeats, aghast.  “You haven’t even _fucked_ me yet, darling!”

“And I won’t until we’re one hundred percent clear on where we stand,” Brian says steadily.  

Freddie lets out a soft growl of frustration.  “I really don’t see how you have so much you want to discuss,” he says.  “It’s all just _fun_ , isn’t it?  Let your fucking hair down a bit, Bri.”

“Mmm,” Brian hums.  “It’s all _fun_ , isn’t it, until I decide to tie you up to fuck you and accidentally send you into a flat panic because _I_ don’t know what your fucking limits are.”

Freddie can only blink at that.  “You...want to tie me up?” he asks after a moment, a little pink in the face all of a sudden.

Brian nods once.  “Among other things,” he says.  “How do you feel about that?”

Freddie nods as well, vigorously.  “You can do that,” he says quickly.  “I’ve been tied up before.”

“Good,” Brian says, pleased.  That’s progress. “With rope?”

“Yes, and…”  Freddie makes a big circle with both hands, fingers and thumbs pressed together.  “Shackle things. That’s good, too.”

Slightly too _dungeon_ for Brian’s liking but he makes a mental note.  “Handcuffs?”

“Do you have any?” Freddie asks interested, looking around.

“I can get some,” Brian replies.  

Freddie nods.  “You can use those,” he says.  

“You like to be restrained, then?” Brian surmises.  It’s sweet when Freddie blushes; Brian doesn’t actually think he’s seen that happen in the past decade.  

“Well I suppose so, yes,” Freddie says as casually as he can, but Brian can hear the slight strain in his voice.

“Good,” Brian nods.  “I like to do that. What’s acceptable to you in terms of marks?”

“Marks?”

“If I was to tie you up, for example, and it left marks on your wrists and ankles after,” Brian elaborates.  

Freddie swallows.  “That’s...that’s fine, too.”

“How much?” 

“Whatever you want,” Freddie tells him.

Brian presses his teeth together for a second, trying to rein in the frustration at Freddie’s lack of forthcoming.

“Can I make you bleed?” he asks.  He doesn’t want to, has never been into that, but he wants to push Freddie into saying no so he can trust that he will.

Freddie only bites his lip and looks away.  “If you want,” he says quietly, drawing into himself.

“This isn’t about what I want, this is about what _you_ are comfortable with.  If I tied you up and it was so tight you bled, would that turn you on?” Brian asks bluntly.

Freddie shifts uncomfortably.  “Do you...do you want to do that to me?”

“Just answer the question, Freddie.”

Freddie looks torn for a moment, fighting some internal struggle, before he shakes his head.  “I don’t think I like that,” he says quietly. “But if you want to—”

“ _Stop_ worrying about what I want,” Brian interrupts.  “It’s fine not to like something, Freddie, I want you to tell me if you don’t.  I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to do.”

Freddie makes a face.  “Isn’t that the whole point, darling?”

Brian goes still, expression suddenly blank.  “No,” he says carefully. “It absolutely isn’t.”

Freddie shoots him a look like he doesn’t believe him and Brian grows ever more concerned about what the fuck kind of experiences Freddie’s had in the past.  

“I don’t want to make you bleed,” Brian tells him.  “Ever. I’m not into that. If you _are_ into heavy masochism, I’m the wrong Dom for you.”  

Freddie goes loose with relief and shakes his head.  “That’s fine,” he says.

“I like to spank people, though,” Brian adds, his voice still so steady and casual like they’re just discussing lunch options and not how they’d like to have kinky sex and Freddie can feel his fucking face burning.  

Christ, why is he getting shy all of a sudden?  He hasn’t been shy about sex in _years_ but something about having such a frank discussion with _Brian_ of all people has him feeling like an uncertain teenager all over again.

“And other impact play.  Paddles, sometimes. Floggers, maybe.  I don’t really like to use a whip or a cane but if you’d like to do it we can try it out.”  Freddie had reacted nicely to being spanked last night but that had only been a single strike through jeans so Brian’s not sure how he’d be with anything more severe.

Freddie just blinks at him.  “That’s...fine,” he says again.  

“Fine?” Brian questions.  “What does _fine_ mean, Freddie?  ‘Fine’ as in, you hate that but you’ll put up with it or ‘fine’ as in, you find it arousing and want to do it?”

Freddie bites his lip.  “Second one,” he says, wishing his face would cool down.  Wishing he’d put some _clothes_ on, actually, because just this conversation’s starting to make him feel a bit more awake downstairs.  “I um...ah, nevermind.”

“No, what is it?” Brian asks, leaning forward.  “Tell me, Freddie.” His voice is gentle but firm and all this is completely fucking crazy—are they actually going to fucking _do_ this?—but when Freddie looks at him it’s still just Brian, still his kind hazel eyes, eyes that have always looked at him like that, like he’s never been more interested in anything than what Freddie’s about to say.

“I just...I don’t want to be hit in the _face_ , if that’s alright with you,” Freddie says nervously.  “Unless you—”

Brian’s heart honestly seizes at the careful way Freddie says it, like he thinks that’ll ruin this.  “Of course,” he agrees at once. “Thank you for telling me. I won’t do that. If I were to spank you it’d be on your ass and thighs, is that okay?”

Freddie nods, surreptitiously making sure the blankets are definitely covering him.

Brian notices but tactfully doesn’t mention it.  “I wouldn’t want to leave you unable to walk or anything but I like leaving marks.  Bruises. Nothing that wouldn’t fade in a few days, but you’d feel it.”

Freddie swallows.  He nods again. “As long as it’s not permanent,” he says.  “A few days is...I’d like that,” he admits.

Brian grins, pleased.  “What about blindfolds?  Gags?”

“Fine,” Freddie breathes.  

“Any toys you don’t like to use?”

Freddie shrugs.  “I don’t know. I’ve used...you know, darling.  Dildos and the like. That’s fine.”

Brian nods, not reacting at all to the words which helps ease Freddie’s embarrassment some.  “Vibrators? Plugs? Okay with you?”

Freddie nods.  “Anything like that.  As long as it’s not, you know, the size of your _arm_ or something.”

Brian snorts despite himself.  “Noted. Last night I told you to ask me before you came.  Was that okay?”

Freddie nods again.  “That was hot,” he confesses.  

“In future I might make you wait longer,” Brian warns.  “I like to have control over that.”

“How long?” Freddie asks, and Brian tries not to let on how pleased he is that Freddie’s asking questions.

“It would depend on the night,” Brian tells him.  “How long are you willing to wait for? I might deny you altogether if I’m punishing you.”

Freddie swallows.  Somehow just the word _punish_ makes him hard.  “I don’t mind that _sometimes_ ,” he says.  “Not...not all the time, though.”

“We can save that for a more serious punishment, then,” Brian suggests.  “And you’ll always have your safeword if it’s too much or if I’m pushing you too hard.  Shall we stick with the colours or do you want to choose something else?”

“Red works for me.”

“I’ll use that too, then,” Brian replies.  “Sometimes I like my subs to call me ‘Sir’ when we’re in the bedroom.  Can you do that?”

Fuck, somehow _that_ sends heat right through Freddie.  “Definitely.”

“Good,” Brian says.  “In terms of actual sex, what are you comfortable with?”

“Anyth—” Freddie cuts himself off at the look on Brian’s face.  “What do you _mean_ , darling?  I really am comfortable with anything!”

“Be specific, I need to know.  I assume you’re okay with me touching you with my hands?” Brian asks, seeing as they’ve already done that.  “Oral?”

“Definitely fine,” Freddie tells him.

“Giving and receiving?”

Freddie nods.

“I’d expect you to swallow,” Brian adds.

Freddie nods again.  “That’s fine.”

“And I do want to fuck you,” Brian says bluntly.  “Is that okay?”

“More than,” Freddie tells him, valiantly ignoring the slight strain he can hear in his own voice.  “When will you?”

“When I decide,” Brian says, as forthcoming about _that_ as ever.  “I don’t like to bottom.  It’s a hard limit for me. Is that going to be a problem?”

Freddie shakes his head.  “I prefer that, actually.”

“Good.  What about calling you names?”

“Names?”

“Saying you’re my little slut or something,” Brian elaborates, and he immediately notices Freddie going tense again.

“If you want,” Freddie says, and Brian wants to spank him already for not _listening_.

“Freddie,” he warns lowly.

Freddie bites his lip.  “I’m not...I’m not _sure_ about that one,” he admits.

“And that’s fine, Freddie.  We won’t do that, then.”

“I mean…” Freddie says, shifting a bit.  “Maybe not at _first_ , Bri, but we could...see?  I don’t _mind_ it.”

“We’ll leave it for now,” Brian decides.  “We can discuss it later if you want to. Can I put a collar on you?  Not to restrict breathing, just for show.”

Freddie’s hand absently comes up to his throat and after a moment he nods.  

Brian arches an eyebrow at him.

“ _Yes_ ,” Freddie insists.  “I’ve never done that before but I don’t mind trying it.”

“Okay,” Brian says.  “That’s good. What about wearing other things, like a thong?  Stockings?”

Freddie blinks.  “I’m not sure you’d like me in those, Bri.”

“Don’t worry about what I want,” Brian tells him, _again_.  “Trust me, I’ll have you thinking about that a _lot_ later on.  Right now, I just need to know what _you_ want.”

Freddie shrugs.  “I don’t have a _problem_ with that,” he says.  “I’ve never done it before, though, darling.”

“That’s fine,” Brian says.  He’s more than happy to show him.  “What about incorporating role-play?  Like if I put you in a maid’s outfit and set you to dusting,” Brian explains when he notes Freddie’s uncertain expression.

“You’d want me to _dust_?”  He’s more offended than anything else.

“Mmm, I’m sure you’ll be just terrible at it,” Brian says.  “Bad enough to be punished.”

_Oh_.  Freddie feels like his entire body just went warm.  “We can do that,” he says quickly. “Darling, how much more do you want to _talk_?  Don’t you want to _do_ something about all this?”

He crawls forward, bracing one hand on Brian’s knee through the covers as he leans in to kiss him and, to his surprise, Brian lets him.  

Encouraged, Freddie makes sure he’s got his balance and deepens their kiss, groaning a bit as Brian frees one hand from the covers and runs it slowly up his thigh, over his hip, fingertips trailing along his ribs so he shivers until he finally cups his jaw and gently pushes him away.

“Freddie,” he says breathily.  “I need to know you’re going to tell me if I do something you don’t want.”

“I will,” Freddie promises heatedly, trying to kiss him again.  “ _Bri_!  I will, I swear, now will you _please_ hurry up and fuck me!”

“No.” 

Freddie blinks at him, indignant, and Brian has to fight to contain a smirk.  “Lie down,” he says sharply. “On your front.”

The change in tone startles Freddie, who just sits back and stares at Brian for a moment, lips parted in abject surprise.

Brian just looks at him.  “If I were you I wouldn’t make me tell you again,” he warns.

Freddie swallows visibly.  “ _Christ_ , Brian,” he mutters breathlessly, rearranging himself and doing as he’s told, lying down on the other side of the bed.  He’s rock hard just from that and he wriggles a bit, trying to find some friction, only to jump when Brian’s hand comes down very suddenly on his ass.

“Stay still,” Brian tells him in a tone that brooks no argument and Freddie stills at once.  “I’m going to give you a rule, okay?”

Freddie nods.  

“Answer me verbally, please.”

“Yes,” Freddie breathes.  “That’s okay. What is it?”

“You’re not allowed to touch yourself unless I say you can.  Can you do that?”

“Yes,” Freddie says again, swallowing hard.  Fucking hell, this is hitting buttons he didn’t even know he _had_.

“And I don’t want you to come until I say you can, either.”

“ _God_ —I’ll try,” Freddie says, and gasps when Brian’s hand lands hard on his ass again.  

“No,” he says steadily.  “You are not going to come until I say you can.”

Freddie grits his teeth together hard, needing a moment; he thinks he could have come quite easily just then if he’d had a hand on his cock even for a second.  “Yes,” he gets out after a couple of seconds. “Yes, okay. I won’t.”

“Good.  You’ll be punished if you do, Freddie.”

Freddie turns his face into the pillow to try and muffle his moan at that and Brian, whose hand is still resting on him, gently scrapes his nails over the curve of his ass. 

Freddie shivers.  “ _Please_ fuck me,” he pleads, turning his head so Brian can hear him.  “I’ll beg you, darling, if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t want you to beg,” Brian says.  Not yet, anyway. He’ll have Freddie begging for it later.  

“What do you want, then?” Freddie asks.  He’s breathy and eager, turning a bit too much to try and look at Brian, his shoulders and chest coming up off the bed.

“I want you to _lie down_ ,” Brian says sharply and Freddie collapses onto the mattress.  “I want you to be _good_.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Freddie insists.  “Why won’t you just fucking give it to me, Brian?”

Brian smacks him again for that.  “Less of the back-talk, I think,” he says, sitting up properly and getting to his knees behind Freddie, taking a moment to admire the pink handprints that are starting to show on Freddie’s skin.  _Beautiful._ He hopes Freddie continues to be a little brat; the marks suit him.

“I’m just _saying_ —”  Freddie cuts himself off as Brian spanks him again, groaning into the pillow and his hips twitch just slightly.

Brian eyes him, giving him a moment’s grace, and Freddie stills so he doesn’t lift his hand again.  “We can just do this all morning if you’d prefer,” he offers blandly. “I don’t mind, Freddie. You’ll learn eventually.”

He hears Freddie mumble a distinct, ‘ _Fuck!_ ’ into the pillow before he turns his head again.  “No, please,” he gasps out. “Please fuck me, Bri, for fuck sake.”

Brian _loves_ how badly he wants it but he knows he can push him further than this, make him wait so much longer.  Freddie thinks he’s desperate now but he has no idea.  

“I’m not going to fuck you yet,” Brian tells him and Freddie makes an angry noise.

“ _Brian_ —” he starts, and Brian doesn’t wait to hear the rest; that tone of voice is quite enough.

He spanks him again, three times on each side, and doesn’t hold back.  Freddie’s gasping when he’s done, his hips straining against the mattress under him.

“Still, please, Freddie,” Brian requests quietly.

Freddie stills, both arms thrust under the pillow.  Brian can see his fists balled on the other side of it, pushed up against the headboard.  

He waits a few moments to see if Freddie’s going to speak again and runs his hand gently along Freddie’s thigh when he doesn’t.  “Good boy,” he says softly, and feels Freddie shiver under his palm. “Well done, Freddie. That’s it.”

Brian dips his hand between Freddie’s legs, cupping his thigh and pushing gently.  “Open,” he requests, and Freddie spreads his legs for him, tipping his head down into the pillow.

He knows Freddie thinks he’s finally getting his way and takes no small amount of pleasure in teasing him like this, making him wait, making him _want_.  He knows he has Freddie’s whole attention right now even and it’s a heady feeling.

Brian settles himself between Freddie’s legs and sticks a finger in his mouth, sucking on it for a moment before sliding it between his cheeks, ghosting over his entrance.  

Freddie immediately pushes back against him, chasing for more, and Brian lets the tip of his finger dip just gently into the tight ring before giving a quiet tut for Freddie’s benefit.  “No,” he says steadily. “You’re not ready yet, baby.”

He removes his finger and Freddie groans, squeezing his legs into the sides of Brian’s knees.  “Darling,” he says, turning his head again. He’s flushed and sweating, absolutely gorgeous. “ _Please_.”

“Ssh,” Brian says.  “I’m going to give you what you need, Freddie, don’t worry.  Do you remember your rules?”

Freddie nods. 

“What are they?  Remind me, baby.”

Freddie takes a moment to catch his breath.  “Don’t touch myself,” he says, flexing his fingers before curling them back into fists.  

“Mm.  What else?”

“Ask you before I come,” Freddie says, so quickly the words are almost lost.

Brian’s endeared by his shyness, it’s so unlike Freddie he just _loves_ it.  “That’s right,” he agrees.  “Ask me, and wait until I say yes.  Remember that, Freddie. I’m going to decide when you’re ready, okay?”

Freddie nods.  “I think I’m nearly ready now, darling,” he says shakily.

Brian laughs lightly.  “Oh, I don’t think so.”  He hasn’t decided yet if he’s going to give Freddie permission to come or hold out long enough that Freddie breaks the rule so he can punish him after; he’s still turning it over in the back of his head.  

“Brian, _please_ ,” Freddie breathes, and Brian hooks his hands under Freddie’s hips.

“Up,” he says simply, pulling on him until Freddie gets his knees under him, his ass in the perfect position and his cock neglected, not even the mattress for any friction.  Brian runs his finger over him again and Freddie twitches all over, surprisingly sensitive.  

“Are you going to be good, Freddie?” Brian asks lowly, bending his head down.  He scrapes his teeth over Freddie’s ass and bites, just gently, but it makes Freddie gasp.

“Oh God, fuck.  Yes, _yes_ , Bri, I’m going to be good,” he gets out hurriedly.  

Brian nips him again, a tiny bit harder, and Freddie groans long and low.  

Brian chuckles, pressing his mouth against him so Freddie can feel the vibration of it, before he lets his tongue flick out.  He just barely catches Freddie but he jumps like he’s been electrocuted, hips bucking forward into nothing.

“Freddie,” Brian warns, licking a long line that makes Freddie shudder before he squeezes him with both hands and pulls his cheeks apart so he can get at his hole.

“Oh _Christ_ ,” Freddie says hoarsely.  “Brian, can I come soon? Please, darling, oh fuck.”

Brian laughs again, tongue moving so lightly he can barely feel anything himself but he can feel how rigid Freddie’s gone.  “I’ve barely even touched you, baby,” he teases. “Not yet. You’re gonna have to learn some self-control, Fred.” That or he was going to be being punished an awful lot, not that Brian would mind.  “But don’t worry. I’ll teach you.” 

“Fuck,” Freddie breathes, pushing his face down into the pillow when Brian’s tongue gets a bit more curious, there and gone and there again, making Freddie desperate for something _inside_ , occasionally interspersed with a kiss that feels far too delicate and tender for what they’re doing, pressed to the inside of his thigh.  “God I need you Bri, I need you to fuck me, _please_.”

Brian ignores him and carries on, starting to probe a little more deeply, letting go of him with one hand to massage just behind his balls and Freddie lets out a yelp, hips bucking again.  

“Fuck, _please_!  Brian, I’m going to come!”  He sounds panicked. He’s _loud_.  

Brian loves it.  “You better not,” he says.  “Or do you want to be punished?”  He doesn’t stop touching him as he speaks, rubbing just gently even while Freddie squirms in place, thighs going tight.  “Legs _open_ , Fred,” Brian says firmly.

Freddie’s panting for breath.  “Brian, please, _please_ ,” he moans.  

Brian spanks him.  “Open, I said,” he orders and Freddie widens his legs obediently, giving Brian more room to touch him.  To _torture_ him.  

“Good boy.”

“Bri, I can’t hold it much longer, you _have_ to let me, _please_!”

Brian sucks his finger to wet it again and absently pushes it into Freddie, just up to the first knuckle, gently teasing him.  “No,” he says simply. “You’re going to wait. You’re definitely not ready for my cock if you need to come already.”

“I _am_ , Bri, _please_ ,” Freddie says, his voice straining so much that Brian actually worries for a moment he’s going to damage it.  He’ll have to get him some lemon and honey when they’re done to make sure he can record if they go to the studio later.

“I don’t expect my subs to come a couple of minutes in,” Brian tells him sternly, pushing in a bit deeper.  “You’re going to need to sort this out, Freddie. We’re going to have to practice.”

“Christ!”  Freddie throws his head back and Brian can hear that he has his teeth gritted.    

He removes his finger and uses his mouth again, less delicate this time as he holds Freddie in place and pushes his tongue inside him.

Freddie yells out loud, squirming as Brian works on him, sucking and licking in equal measure, fingers digging hard into Freddie’s ass to keep him still.

“Fuck, Brian!” Freddie pants, and hastily pushes his head down into his pillow to muffle himself.

Brian pulls away and gives him another quick spank.  “Head up, Fred, let me hear you.” 

“God, please let me come,” Freddie begs, wrecked, as he pulls his head up.

Brian doesn’t reply, just picks up where he left off.  Freddie’s squeezing and relaxing around him, not sure what to do with himself, groaning as quietly as he can manage, which isn’t all that quiet.  

“Brian please, _please_ ,” he’s muttering hoarsely, barely able to keep still.  

Brian still doesn’t reply, focusing instead on wriggling a finger into Freddie alongside his tongue, crooking it just so to rub him hard in just the right spot.

He had actually been planning on telling Freddie he could come in a few minutes but he’s overestimated how long Freddie can hold out for because Freddie cries out and comes all over the sheets as soon as Brian catches his prostate.

Brian continues to play with him until Freddie’s squeezed himself so tight it becomes too difficult and he pulls away, short of breath.

“Freddie,” he says lowly, draping himself over Freddie’s back.

Freddie lets himself collapse down onto the sheets, Brian’s weight heavy on top of him.

“What just happened?” Brian asks.

Freddie’s quiet, trying to catch his breath, but Brian wants to drag the scene out for longer if he can.  “Freddie,” he says again, more sternly.  

He gets a hand under Freddie’s stomach and feels around until his fingers find the expected wetness there, and his soft cock when he works his hand lower down.

“What’s this?” he says casually.

Freddie buries his face in the pillow.  “I’m sorry,” he mumbles.  

“What have you done?” Brian asks.  He levers himself off of Freddie and onto his side, palming himself for a moment because his cock is desperate for _something_.  “Did you come?”

Freddie nods, still keeping his face hidden.

“Answer verbally.”

Freddie groans.  “ _Yes_.”

“Did I give you permission to?”

Freddie shakes his head and jumps when Brian gives him a sharp slap on his still-exposed ass.

“No,” Freddie admits.  “I’m _sorry_ , darling.  I’m not very good at this.”

“Ssh, that’s not true.  You just need some practice,” Brian tells him gently.  “I’m going to punish you for this, to help you learn. But not now, okay?”

Freddie slowly turns his head to look at him, flushed a very pretty pink with pupils blown wide.  “What will you do?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Brian lies.  He knows exactly what he’s going to do, has been secretly fantasising about it for a while now.  “For now, I’d like to take a shower. I need to take care of this,” he says, squeezing his own cock again.

Freddie’s gaze drops down to the tent of Brian’s boxers and his expression clears a bit.  He goes to reach for him but Brian catches his wrist before he can touch.

“I’d like you to join me,” he continues.  “Is that okay?”

Freddie sits up so fast Brian nearly startles.  “God, yes,” he breathes.  

“You can go and turn the shower on,” Brian tells him as Freddie slips out of bed.  “And then you can wait for me.”

He takes his time before he follows, lazily stroking himself as he listens to Freddie clatter around in the bathroom and the spray of the water being turned on.  He so badly wants Freddie’s mouth on him but it’s just too tempting to hold out for a little longer, to make him wait some more.

Eventually Brian rolls out of bed and goes to join him, finding Freddie brushing his teeth over the sink.  He doesn’t blush or try to hide his nakedness, not shy about that, and Brian’s pleased; Freddie’s ass looks good with his hands all over it.  

Brian meets his eye in the mirror and jerks his head toward the shower.  “Get in,” he says, “and face the wall.   _Don’t_ turn around.”

Freddie looks confused but quickly rinses his mouth out and obeys, stepping in under the spray.  The shower’s spacious and powerful, water running in rivulets down his back while Brian just stands and admires him for a moment, waiting for Freddie’s impatience to win out.

It does after a minute or so; he looks over his shoulder, though he quickly looks back when he sees the expression on Brian’s face.

“Eyes forward, Fred,” Brian says, speaking loudly so he’ll be heard over the water.  “I won’t tell you again. It’ll hurt more if you’re wet.”

Freddie nods and bends his head forward a little and Brian can’t resist the graceful arch of his neck.

He kicks his boxers off and steps in behind Freddie, all the air inside him suddenly far too much because they’re here naked together, their bodies are so close, and Brian wants to _touch_.

He’s so hard it’s bordering on painful and he shuffles in close behind Freddie, close enough to hook a chin over his shoulder and kiss his neck.

“Don’t move,” he says, taking himself in hand.

Freddie groans as he feels Brian start stroking himself, his fist bumping against Freddie every time he pulls it down to the head. 

“Fuck, darling,” Freddie gasps out.  “Please let me do it for you, you haven’t even let me _see_ you.”

“Don’t move,” Brian says again.  He isn’t going to last long at all; it’s been too long since he had this, he’s reacting to it like he’s new all over again.  Or maybe it’s just because it’s Freddie—it’s _Freddie_.  Freddie’s naked back before him, the swell of Freddie’s ass against his hand, Freddie’s come on his sheets out there.

“Fuck, _Freddie_ ,” Brian grinds out because he has to say it, has to hear it, and Freddie gasps and tips his head back against him, leaning into him and pressing his ass into him.

“Bri, let me, _please_ ,” he begs, fumbling to reach behind him.

Brian slaps his hand away.  “Don’t even think about it,” he says as sharply as he can while he can barely catch his breath.  “Just stand there.”

Freddie lets out a growl of frustration but it doesn’t matter; Brian comes a moment later, shooting up Freddie’s back and Freddie arches against him.  

“Christ,” he gasps.  “I think I could almost get hard again.”

“Almost,” Brian repeats, kissing his neck again, sucking a new mark into the skin there.  “We’ll have to practice that too, then.”

He finally lets go of his own cock when he’s too sensitive to touch himself anymore, feeling loose and lazy and relaxed as he just trails kisses along every part of Freddie’s neck he can reach.

Without stopping, he blindly reaches for the shower gel and squirts it into his palm, working it into Freddie’s shoulders.

Freddie groans and relaxes all over, leaning fully back against Brian.

“God, Brian, that feels wonderful, darling,” Freddie sighs.

“Mm,” Brian hums.  “I like hearing you say my name.”

Likes it too much, probably.  Someone’s bound to get hurt, but there’s no point in thinking about that now.

As with last night, Freddie gets quieter and quieter as Brian massages the soap into him and lets it wash off under the water, sweet and supplicant beneath Brian’s hands until eventually he turns to face him, looping both arms around Brian’s waist.  He still doesn’t speak, just presses his face against Brian’s neck and holds on until Brian eventually shuts off the water.

“Come on,” he says gently, guiding Freddie out of the shower.  He’s slow and almost dazed, like he’s half-asleep, but at least Brian’s expecting it this time.  He’s definitely going to have to be careful about timings if they carry on with this; Freddie’s not quick to come back up after, they won’t be able to do this if they have somewhere to be.  

Brian probably should have seen it coming because Freddie takes hours to come down after a show, but he’s different then, manic and restless.  _This_ Freddie is another Freddie entirely, the opposite end of the spectrum, and Brian wasn’t expecting it at all but he loves it.

He loves that Freddie just waits for him, dripping on the floor, while Brian grabs a fresh towel and wraps it around him, loves that he leans into him when they walk through to the bedroom, how easily he curls against Brian’s body when they lie back down on the bed.  

They’re both soaking wet and the bed sheets need to be changed but Brian couldn’t care less just then; he has Freddie in his arms, dozing lightly with Brian’s hickies spotting his neck, turning his head into his touch when Brian can’t help himself and starts running his fingers through his hair.  

It’s peaceful and perfect, even when Freddie suddenly stirs.  “When do we need to be at the studio?” he asks, opening his eyes a bit.

“Not for a while,” Brian tells him.  “We’ve got some time.”

He lets go of Freddie for a few seconds so he can grab the blankets and Freddie’s eyes fly wide open, which Brian notices when he lies back down.

“Ssh, it’s alright, baby, I’m not going anywhere,” Brian reassures him, pulling the blanket up over both of them even though they’re still damp and pulling Freddie back against his chest.  “I’ll wake you up when we need to leave, you can sleep for a bit.”

“Do you want to fuck again?” Freddie mumbles against him.

Brian laughs.  “I do,” he admits.  “But not yet. Right now I just want this.  Is that okay?” he checks.

Freddie lets out a tiny little sigh and holds him tighter, nodding.  “‘S’perfect,” he says sleepily. “I think this is my favourite part.”

Brian puts a gentle kiss on top of his head.  “I like it, too.” A lot, actually. More than he usually does.

Probably should have seen that coming, too.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Brian isn’t the biggest fan of recording in Munich—Freddie gets into far too much trouble here, they all do—but it _is_ a good spot for this kind of shopping.

“Have you got something a bit smaller than this?” Brian asks, holding up the butt plug he’d been looking at.  “This shape but maybe just a _size_ smaller?”  He thinks he’ll get this one too but he’s not sure how much Freddie’s used any of these things so he wants to make sure they’re able to take it extra slowly if they need to.  

The man who owns the shop can only speak a little bit of English, which Brian keeps forgetting, and he has to gesture to him what he means, holding up the plug and making a ‘smaller’ gesture with his thumb and forefinger.  He has a fantastically stocked shop, however, and met Brian with a blank look when he walked in so thankfully there’s no chance of him being recognised, a big point in its favour.

He nods his understanding with a “ _Ja, ja, klein_ ,” as he disappears to find something suitable, leaving Brian to continue browsing.  He has a lot of these things already but very few with him in Germany and he figures he may as well buy all new toys for Freddie.  Plus, he’s always keen for any excuse to have a look around a shop like this as they’re usually great places to get new ideas; he’s already seen three things he wants to try.  With Freddie, specifically.

Brian knows he needs to be careful—already, everything he imagines, everything he fantasises, has become _Freddie_ —but he can’t help himself and he wants to enjoy this while it lasts.

He also has to stop himself from buying everything that takes his fancy, which is...a lot of things, actually.  But there’s no need to get everything now, especially not when he’s heading back to the UK soon for a few days visit and he can buy things from the stores he already knows, good, top quality toys that Freddie will appreciate.  He only needs a few bits for now, to punish Freddie for disobeying.  

The German man returns with several varieties of butt plug in different sizes and a few other shapes that he doesn’t have out on display and Brian takes them with thanks, turning them over to look.  One of them is probably just the right size to start Freddie off with, not too big but definitely big enough to be noticed.  Perfect.

“ _Danke_ ,” Brian says, nodding at the man.  “ _Hast du_...um…”  He has no idea what the German word is for _vibrate_ and he’s not about to humiliate himself by trying to act it out.  “You know, a vibrator?  Like this?” he holds the butt plug up and thankfully the man nods again.

“ _Ja_!  _Hier drüben_ ,” he says, waving Brian over to a different section of the shop to show him their selection then leaves Brian to browse by himself.

He finds a few things that will do just nicely as well as a very nice red, silky-textured rope that he can’t _wait_ to see Freddie in, and grabs more lube while he’s at it because he intends to use a lot of it.

He pays cash and ducks carefully out of the shop with his purchases safely wrapped in a nondescript brown paper bag.

There’s one last thing he needs but he doesn’t know where to get a decent spreader bar around here that won’t break after one vigorous use; he thinks his easiest option would be to go back to the club Freddie had taken him to and ask around but he doesn’t want to draw any extra attention to himself.  He supposes he could makeshift one or just tie Freddie’s legs to the bed as well but he wants to do it properly, and there’s just something about using a bar that takes things up a notch.  

He ends up ordering one by phone when he gets back to the hotel, from the exact same store as the one he already has but it _is_ for Freddie so he opts for the most expensive model they have.  It’ll take a few days to arrive but it’ll be worth it.

“Friday,” Brian mutters to Freddie the next day, leaning over the back of the chair he’s sprawled in while one of the sound engineers checks something on the tape they just recorded. 

Freddie’s head whips around so fast they nearly bump heads.

“For…our…?”

Brian nods.  “Are you free?”

Freddie swallows.  “I can be,” he whispers.

Brian’s pleased as anything.  “I want you to come to my room at eleven o’clock.  Eat first, and don’t drink beforehand.”  

He’d love to forbid him from having sex or any kind of orgasm until then but he doesn’t know how well Freddie’d react to that just yet so he doesn’t say anything else, just gives his shoulder a little squeeze and engrosses himself in the conversation with Mack and the others.

Freddie blushes every time he looks at him for the rest of the day.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Eleven o’clock on Friday night ticks by while Brian’s sat watching the clock, not even bothering to pretend to himself that he’s not.  

Freddie doesn’t show up until ten past.  He knocks carefully and Brian makes him wait for a good thirty seconds before he crosses the room to open the door.

“You’re late,” he says, displeased.

Freddie blinks at him, surprised.  He’s always late and Brian’s rarely annoyed about it, these days; they all know what he’s like by now.

“Sorry, darling,” he apologises because that’s clearly what Brian’s waiting for.  “Lost track of the time.”

It’s a lie; he’s been in his own room for the past hour thinking about _this_ and had made himself wait until ten past so he wouldn’t seem overly keen.  

Brian steps aside to let him in and swings the door closed behind him.  

“Next time I tell you to be here at eleven,” he says lowly, “I expect you here at eleven.”

Freddie swallows.  God help him, even that’s gotten him hard.  He nods.

Brian turns away from him and walks over to sit on the edge of the bed.  “Have you eaten?” he asks.

Freddie nods again.

Brian lifts an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” Freddie tells him, remembering that Brian liked him to speak aloud.

Brian nods to himself.  “Good,” he says quietly.  “You remember your safeword?”

“Red.”

“And if you need a few minutes?” Brian presses.

Freddie has to think for a moment.  “Yellow?”

“Yellow,” Brian agrees.  “If you say that we’ll take a breather.  If you need some water or anything, if you need me to adjust something, say yellow.  If you say red I’ll stop the scene immediately.  Okay?”

Freddie nods.  “Okay.”

Brian watches him intently.  “I want your absolute assurance you will use either of those two words if you need to tonight, Freddie,” he says firmly.  “If you say no, I’m not going to stop.  Only if I hear red or yellow, understand?”

“Yes,” Freddie says seriously.  This feels very _real_ all of a sudden and he wonders what Brian’s planning.  “I’ll say red if I need you to stop.”  He trusts Brian more than anyone else he’s ever slept with, despite having not actually even been fucked by him yet, but it’s still surprisingly relieving to have that boundary.  He’s never had that before, nor had such absolute faith in his partner to actually stop if Freddie tells them to.  But Brian’s so serious about this it’s impossible not to be serious with him.

“Good,” Brian says, and Freddie can see his shoulders relax, getting a little looser as he leans back a tiny bit.  “We’ll get started, then.  I want you to take your clothes off and fold them up on that chair over there.”

Freddie glances at the indicated chair and can feel his face starting to heat up already.  Brian’s fully clothed, dark jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt though half the buttons are undone.  He’s even got shoes on.  And he’s just sitting there watching him.

“Do it now, please, Freddie.”

Freddie starts into motion, walking over to the chair and taking his shoes off first, kicking them under the chair.

“ _Neatly_ ,” Brian intones from behind and Freddie bends down to pull his shoes back out and set them side by side.  

Keeping his back to Brian, he pulls his t-shirt over his head next.  He can’t remember folding a shirt up in _years_ , he has people who do that sort of thing for him now, but the motions are still swift and practised from years spent on a clothing stall in Kensington.

He can’t see him but he can feel Brian’s gaze on him as he slides his jeans down, pulling them off and piling them with his shirt, trying to make himself breathe deeply and calmly because his heart’s started to beat erratically. 

He’s slightly embarrassed by how hard he is already, just from stripping for Brian.  From being _told to_.  

“Good boy,” Brian murmurs from behind and Freddie swallows hard.  “Come here.”

Freddie takes another steadying breath and finally turns, pleased to see that Brian’s also got spots of red in his cheeks and there’s a definite tightness in the crotch of his jeans.

He pats his knee and Freddie takes the silent instruction, walking over to him but pausing just short of him.

Brian has to reach out and tug him the final bit of the way, pulling him down onto his lap so Freddie’s legs are spread across his clothed thighs and they’re nearly chest-to-chest.  

“You’re gorgeous, you know,” Brian tells him, running a hand up Freddie’s back.

Freddie shivers.  “What are you going to do?” he asks.

“I’m going to punish you,” Brian tells him simply.  “Remind me why.”

Freddie closes his eyes.  “For coming before you said I could,” he admits, barely above a whisper.  

“That’s right,” Brian agrees.  “But first I want to talk about your time-keeping.  You need more discipline, Freddie.”

Freddie blinks at him.

“What time did I tell you to come here tonight?”

Freddie purses his lips.  “Eleven.”

“And what time did you arrive?”

“I’m not sure,” Freddie whispers.  He is.  He knows it was ten past, he saw the clock before he left, he was watching it, but no fucking way is he about to admit that.  He didn’t actually even consider that Brian might take issue with it.

“I am,” Brian says steadily.  “It was ten past eleven.  So you’re going to bend over my lap and I’m going to spank you.  You were ten minutes late, so I think we’ll do ten, shall we?  That should help you remember next time.  Does that seem fair to you?”

Freddie can only nod and Brian’s eyebrows jump upward again.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” Freddie breathes.  “I’m sorry I was late, darling.”

“Good,” Brian says, running both hands along Freddie’s thighs for a moment.  “Thank you for apologising.  Do you remember that we had some rules last time?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to have a different rule tonight,” Brian tells him, still running his hands along Freddie’s legs where they’re thrown over his.  He’s so calm and controlled, his voice pitched just _slightly_ lower to how he usually speaks, eyes steady but mouth a little pleased.  It reminds Freddie of how he is on stage, makes him want to rattle that control, or _try_ to, but he doesn’t quite dare yet.  

“You may touch yourself, if you want,” Brian says.  “And you don’t need my permission to come.  But you _are_ being punished, so tonight I want you to call me ‘sir’.  Do you understand?”

_Fuck_.  Heat floods his stomach and Freddie closes his eyes and tips his head forward, blood rushing so fast he’s sure he must be red from top to toe.  “Oh, fuck,” he mutters breathlessly.

“Freddie,” Brian says sternly, squeezing a little.  “Do you understand?”

“God, _God_.  Yes, alright.  _Sir_ ,” Freddie gets out, unsteady and ridiculously aroused, saying it makes him dizzy.  He doesn’t know _how_ Brian manages to do this to him while barely touching him.  

“Good,” Brian says, pleased.  “Then let’s get started.  I want you over my knees.”

It takes Freddie a moment to figure out how to engage his brain and move his legs, shifting to get up.  “You want me to…”  He glances down at Brian’s legs.  People have slapped him on the ass before, of course, but he’s never really bent over someone’s lap like this, especially not _Brian’s_.  

“Yes please, just here,” Brian says calmly, putting a hand on his own knee to indicate.  

Freddie swallows.  It takes him a few seconds to let go of the hesitation clenched inside him, to surrender to the moment and let himself bend over for Brian.  It’d be easier with a few drinks or some coke but he’d wanted to be good, he hasn’t touched a drop of drink all day per Brian’s request, so he’s very sober and very _aware_ of the moment of his own submission.

He folds over Brian’s lap and lets out his breath in a quick rush, bending his head down.  He feels more exposed than he has in packed sex clubs full of voyeurs, Brian’s hand trailing gently over his ass, the room silent around them.

“Well done,” Brian says quietly, stroking him.  “Thank you, Freddie.  You’re being so good, you’re so good.  I can already tell how fucking perfect you’re going to be at this.”

“I’ve never done this...like _this_ ,” Freddie mumbles to the carpet, squeezing his eyes closed a second later so he can add, “Sir” even though Brian can’t even look in his eyes just then.  He can feel his face burning but his cock is aching and he can’t help but fumble a hand between Brian’s knees to squeeze it, trying for some relief.

It does help.

“That’s okay,” Brian assures him, running his hand down Freddie’s back now, leaving goosebumps in its wake the touch is so soft.  “Do you want to do just five this time?”

Freddie shakes his head.  “No,” he says determinedly.  “Do it properly.”  He trusts Brian; he knows he’ll make him feel good.

“Good boy.  Use your word if you need, at any point, okay?”

“Okay,” Freddie breathes, and Brian gives him a tiny pinch and Freddie hastily adds, “Sir!”

The first one comes without further warning after that.  Brian’s hand comes down hard and fast, landing perfectly square on Freddie’s cheek, the sting enough to make him jump and gasp.  It’s not a playful little slap at all, it’s _real_ , and Freddie clenches his toes, shocked by how hot it is.  He squeezes his cock hard, jerking himself even though he knows he should hold back a bit, there are still nine to go.

“One,” Brian says firmly.  

Two comes quickly after, Brian counting it after the fact, Freddie curling his head down and trying to bite back his moan.  It stings so badly in the first instant but as soon as it recedes it leaves him with a fantastic rush, hot all over, leaking into his own hand.

“Three,” Brian says, catching his upper-thigh that time and, “Four,” on the other leg.  

“Fuck, fuck,” Freddie gasps, shaking his head, his free hand scrabbling at the carpet, wishing he could cling to Brian but he’s the wrong position to be able to reach him.

“Five,” Brian counts, and his hand lands right in the centre, the shock of it passing through to his balls for a moment and Freddie yelps, throwing his head up.  “Are you touching yourself?”

“Fucking hell _yes_ , darling!” Freddie gasps, not sure how Brian’s _words_ can still manage to arouse him while they’re in the middle of _this_ and yet here he is.  

“Good,” Brian says quietly, carrying on.

Freddie comes on the eighth, on the carpet and on the leg of Brian’s jeans but he couldn’t care less, he’s spinning with it, high on it, only tethered because Brian still has two more to deliver and he spanks him _hard_ each time, making damn sure Freddie can feel it.

His ass is on fire, stinging and hot, but Freddie feels cleansed, loose and relaxed and limp over Brian’s lap, just lying there recovering once it’s done.

“Well done, Freddie, that was perfect, well _done_ ,” Brian tells him, stroking him again, letting him catch his breath.  “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” Freddie gets out, starting to pull himself upright.

Brian lets him though his hands never leave him, travelling along whichever part of him is within reach as Freddie gets up, blinking a little dazedly.

Brian’s watching him with a look on his face Freddie’s never seen before, something hungry and intense, his eyes dark and playful.  “Why don’t you go and get yourself some water, baby?” Brian suggests, nodding him toward the bathroom.  “And we can get started for real.”

Of course.  Freddie had almost forgotten that that hadn’t been what he was here for at all.  His cock gives an interested twitch at the thought and he hurries over to get a cup of water, hearing Brian opening drawers and rustling around while he sips from it.

When he returns he stops dead partway across the room, eyes fixed on Brian’s hands.  

“Oh,” Freddie says, eyes going wide.

Brian grins at him.  He’s hauled the duvet off the bed and he’s holding a length of red rope.  

Freddie’s heart misses a few beats and his mouth goes dry.  “Are you going to...do you want to…”  He presses his wrists together to demonstrate, arching his eyebrows.

“Not quite like that,” Brian tells him beckoning him over.  “You said were okay being restrained?”

“I am,” Freddie says with certainty, stealing closer.  The rope’s thin and pretty, a nice deep red, like Brian’s guitar, and it looks soft.

“Lie down,” Brian tells him gently, stepping back so Freddie can get on the bed.  “On your back.”

Freddie’s a little surprised, having assumed that Brian would want him on his knees so he could fuck him, but does as he’s told, eager to see where this is going.  It’s a little sore on his ass and thighs where Brian’s just spanked him but in truth Freddie’s only more aroused, knowing why.

“Hands above your head,” Brian directs.

Freddie does so and Brian gets on the bed with him, kneels over his chest so his crotch is on a level with Freddie’s face and Freddie loses his breath all of a sudden, _wanting_ more badly than he has in a long while.  He wishes Brian was naked as well so he could fucking _see_ him, wants to know what he’s packing in those jeans, sure that with Brian’s height he’s going to be well-endowed, but he wants to _know_.  He wants to see him, taste him, _feel_ him.  

“When are you going to fuck me, darling?” Freddie asks plaintively, closing his eyes.

Brian doesn’t dignify it with a response.  “Hands together, please,” he says, and loops the rope around Freddie’s wrists.

The feeling of it sends heat through Freddie’s entire body and he pulls in an unsteady breath as Brian winds the soft rope around his wrists, deftly flicking and twisting and tying, focusing on what he’s doing so Freddie’s quite free to just watch him, admiring the concentration on his face.

He’s clearly done this before, the motions practised, and the idea of that somehow makes Freddie hard again, or at least well on his way.

He binds Freddie’s wrists first in an intricate pattern before tugging them upward and securing him to the head of the bed, pulling the rope through the ornate headboard and tying it off.

Freddie’s heart’s pounding by the time Brian sits back to admire his handiwork, running one finger down Freddie’s chest, all the way along his stomach and stopping just as he reaches the dark hair at Freddie’s crotch.

“Try it out,” he suggests, sidling off him.

Freddie’s so fucking aroused he doesn’t want to get free at all but he plays along and tugs, then tugs harder when he realises just how well Brian’s tied him up.

Brian smirks at him, watching him try the bonds.  “Perfect.  Remind me of your safeword.”

“Red,” Freddie tells him at once, squeezing his legs together though he’s not able to get much relief from it.  “Oh God, Bri, please touch me, _fuck_.”

“You’re being punished, Freddie,” Brian reminds him.  “We’re not doing what you want.”

He leaves the bed altogether and Freddie valiantly hopes it’s to get undressed but Brian returns fully clothed, a pole in his hand with two cuffs attached to either end.

Freddie’s eyes go wide when he looks at it and his heart thumps heavily in his chest.  It looks exactly like the sort of thing he’d find at the club but it’s here in Brian’s hotel room, in _Brian’s_ hands.

He holds it out for Freddie to look at before standing at the foot of the bed and grasping one of Freddie’s ankles.

Freddie gasps just at that, at the way Brian secures the cuff snugly around him and runs a finger underneath to make sure it’s not too tight.  “Okay?” he asks, glancing up.  

Freddie nods quickly.  

Brian pulls his other leg down and stretches it out so he can attach the other cuff, checking it the same way before he does something to the bar and extends it.

Freddie swears as his legs are pulled wide, straining for _something_ and tries to bend his knees like that’ll give his cock any friction but Brian grabs hold of the bar and stops him.

“Nuh uh,” Brian says, shaking his head and tugging Freddie’s legs back down flat.  “Lie nice and still for me, that’s it.  Look at you,” he murmurs a moment later, letting go and just taking Freddie in, eyeing him up from head to toe until Freddie’s burning red hot from the flush of it.  

“Right where I want you,” Brian tells him quietly. 

He moves away again and Freddie subtly tests the bar, pushing against it only to find he can’t close his legs at all, no matter how hard he tries.  It’s so shockingly arousing he’s leaking just from this, from being all tied up, despite having had an orgasm not fifteen minutes ago.

The bed dips as Brian returns once again and positions himself between Freddie’s legs with lube in his other hand.

He opens the lid slowly, while Freddie’s eyes are fixed on it, and dips a finger in, coating it unhurriedly, almost absently, before setting the pot aside and leaning over Freddie.

He doesn’t waste any time dipping his hand between his thighs and beginning to probe at his opening, pushing the tip of his finger inside.  “Now, are you being rewarded or being punished, Freddie?” Brian asks calmly.

Freddie swallows.  “Punished.”

Brian purses his lips, removes his finger, and delivers a sharp slap to Freddie’s thigh.  “What did I tell you to call me?”

“Sir!” Freddie remembers, flexing his thigh to try and ease the sting.  “Sorry, sorry.”

“We’ll try again,” Brian says, his finger finding its way back to Freddie’s hole and beginning to slide inside once again.  “Are you being punished or are you being rewarded?”

“Punished, sir,” Freddie breathes.

“That’s right,” Brian says, rubbing slowly.  “Why is that?”

Freddie closes his eyes.  “For coming before you said I could,” he whispers, catching his breath as Brian chooses that moment to push his finger in further, turning it slightly.

“Exactly,” Brian says.  “Really I shouldn’t let you come at all tonight, should I?”

Freddie squeezes his lips together.  

“ _Should I_?” Brian repeats pointedly.

Freddie sucks in a quick breath.  “It’s...it’s up to you,” he says quickly.  

Brian gives a soft laugh at that, pleased, and lets it slide that Freddie didn’t say ‘sir’.  “You’re right,” he tells him, pulling his finger out and teasing for a moment before slowly pushing it in again.  “I’ve already let you come once, which I hope you’re grateful for.”

“I am!” Freddie says, catching on quickly.  “I am, sir.  Thank you.”

“Good boy,” Brian praises, using his free hand to press his palm against himself for a second.  Freddie’s so fucking good at this without even meaning to be, he’s just a _natural_ at it, Brian can’t believe they haven’t been doing this for years already.  “You were ever so eager the other night, weren’t you?” he continues, hovering over Freddie to look at him while moving his finger slowly inside, looking for the right place to tease him.  “I didn’t even get to see you.  So tonight I want you to show me.  Let’s see just how many times we can get you to come for me, shall we?”

Freddie’s eyes are wide and he swallows hard, rolling his hips to try and get more friction from what little Brian’s giving him.  He’s fully hard again and gasps when Brian catches his prostate, tipping his head back.

“There we go,” Brian breathes, focusing his attention on that little spot.  “Is that it, Freddie?”

Freddie gives a shuddery moan, squeezing around Brian because it’s a lot when he just rubs like that, no finesse, just bluntly working him over until Freddie’s yanking hard on the ropes, needing to _move_ but he can’t.

“Is that it, Freddie?” Brian repeats more firmly, crooking his finger.

“God!” Freddie cries out.  “Yes, Bri— _sir_ , fucking hell!”

“Good.”  Brian doesn’t stop, smirking down at him as he continues to rub hard, driving his fingertip into him and loosely wrapping his other hand around Freddie’s cock.

Freddie jumps at the contact, bucking his hips up off the bed to press into his touch, and Brian chuckles.  “You like that?”

“Yes, _yes_ , God I wish you’d fuck me,” Freddie says, continuing to push his hips up when Brian doesn’t tell him off for it, chasing the contact.

Brian squeezes him gently and starts stroking him, watching his face.  Freddie makes all sorts of beautiful expressions like this, expressions Brian’s never seen on him before and wants to see over and over again for as long as he’s allowed, wants that wide-open mouth and the sweet little moans and ‘ _Ah_ ’s as Brian pushes him closer and closer to the edge.

He removes his finger for a brief moment to get more lube and pushes two back into him, working him over and lazily jerking him until Freddie cries out and thrusts upward and comes over his fist.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , why won’t you _fuck_ me, Christ, Bri,” Freddie groans, squeezing his eyes shut.

Brian pulls his fingers out and lets go of him.  “What do you say?”

Freddie takes a few seconds to catch his breath.  “Thank you,” he sighs, his arms limp in the ropes.  “Sir,” he remembers to add, and not a moment too soon as Brian was about to give his thigh another quick smack to remind him.

“You’re welcome,” he says indulgently instead, eyeing Freddie while Freddie’s still got his eyes closed and isn’t paying him any mind.  He reaches behind him to pick up one of the toys he bought in the city and quietly covers it in lube while Freddie’s still recovering, nudging it between his cheeks without a word.

Freddie jumps like Brian did just smack him and tries to squeeze his legs shut but it’s no use with the spreader bar.  

“Not yet, Bri!” he says quickly.  

Brian ignores him and pushes the butt plug further into him, pausing when Freddie tenses because he doesn’t want to hurt him, arching his eyebrows.

“Relax, Freddie,” he tells him sternly.

“Fuck, it’s too _soon_ , I only just came!” Freddie protests.  “Let me touch you, Bri, _please_ , you must be aching for it.”

Brian is, but he’s not about to give Freddie what he wants.

“Freddie,” Brian says steadily.  “Breathe, please.”

Freddie does, pulling a big breath in.  

“Good boy, and out again.”

Freddie lets it out, relaxing, and Brian pushes the plug the rest of the way.  

Freddie swears and wriggles but without his hands there’s no way he’s dislodging it.

“There you go,” Brian says, pushing against it so Freddie gasps.  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No sir,” Freddie tells him, eyes bright and pupils blown.  “But I’m not—darling, I don’t think I can come again.”

Brian huffs softly.  “You will,” he promises.  “We’ve got plenty of time, baby, there’s no rush.”

He amuses himself just pushing against the end of the plug for a moment, entranced by the way Freddie’s stomach and thighs go taut, the way he clenches around him.  He’d never in a million years, it’s far too risky, but he’d sell his fucking _soul_ for a photo of Freddie like this, so open and ready for him with just the end of a pretty red plug on display.

Freddie’s gone soft but Brian runs a finger gently along his cock even so, making Freddie twitch, and leans close over him.  He kisses him gently on the mouth before letting his tongue slide along Freddie’s lower lip, just under his chin, licking into the hollow of his throat and down, catching both nipples and closing his teeth just gently around them one at a time, so Freddie yelps and pulls at the ropes holding him in place.

“Yes,” Brian murmurs, sitting up and straddling his hips.  “I think you’ve definitely got another one in you.”

He reaches behind him to give the plug another deep push, feeling the way Freddie tries to buck up underneath him, and smiles to himself.

“Not long,” he says.  “Just enough time for…”  He doesn’t finish the sentence, just unzips his own jeans and slides the waistband down just enough to be able to touch himself.

Freddie’s eyes are fixed on him, lips parted and shining as Brian takes his cock out and starts lazily stroking himself.

“Oh God,” Freddie groans, shifting desperately under him, tugging hard on the rope.  “Brian!  _Please_!”

He was right; Brian _is_ well-endowed.  More than, in fact, Freddie’s mouth is fucking _watering_ , he wants that _inside_ him right the fuck now, he wants to touch him, wants to know how thick that cock would feel in his hand, how hot.  

“Brian, please, _please_ let me touch you, fucking _hell_!” Freddie begs, shaking his head wildly.  It’s a well thought-out torture; Freddie’s never wanted someone’s cock so badly in his fucking life and the fact that it’s right _there_ but he still can’t touch, can’t taste, can only fucking _watch_ is killing him.

“Not yet,” Brian tells him, carrying on with his unhurried rhythm.  “But if you’re good tonight I might let you suck it tomorrow.”

Freddie’s breath escapes him in a rush and, madly, he can feel his cock stir again.  “Fuck, _yes_ , please.”

“Would you like that?” Brian asks him, cocking his head to one side.  

“You know I would.”  Freddie can’t take his eyes off him, off the way Brian’s hand looks around himself, how big his hand is but somehow perfectly proportioned.  Freddie knows it’s because he’s been denied but he’s never wanted something so much, has _never_ seen anything he wanted more, a cock he needed this badly.  The plug in his ass is nothing compared to what he wants, it’s almost an annoyance when he wants so much _more_ , something warm and real and _Brian_ that would press so much deeper inside him.  He knows it would feel so fucking good if only Brian would fucking _give it to him_.

“ _Please_ fuck me, Brian, I can’t take this!”

Brian only smiles at his desperation, thumbing his own precome from the end of his cock and swiping it over Freddie’s lip.  

Freddie lets out a strangled moan and licks it away, wanting any little piece of Brian he can get.

“I didn’t say you could taste,” Brian tells him, breathing hard, and Freddie groans through his teeth as Brian gives his thigh a sharp slap.

“Bri— _sir_ , you’re _killing_ me, darling!”

Brian smirks and takes hold of Freddie’s cock in his other hand, relishing the little gasp Freddie lets out when he does.  He’s not fully hard yet but it doesn’t matter, Brian starts stroking him anyway.

“Oh, fuck!” Freddie cries, trying to twist his hips but it’s impossible with Brian’s weight on him.  “I can’t, it’s too soon!”

“I thought you were going to be good for me?” Brian asks, not stopping.

“I am,” Freddie moans.  “I _am_ , darling, but—”

“No buts,” Brian interrupts him.  “I want to see you come again for me, Freddie.”

Freddie blows out his breath and Brian can feel his cock twitch in his palm.  “Oh, do you _do_ this to me?” Freddie asks at large, his throat bobbing as he swallows hard.

Brian doesn’t reply, just focuses on stroking both of them.  He has half a mind to slide their cocks together, grasp them both in one hand and stroke them like that, but it’s just too delicious denying Freddie any contact with his cock at all when Brian knows how badly he wants it.

Unsurprisingly, Brian comes first; he’s been hard since he watched Freddie undress for him and fighting to hold himself back.  He lets go of Freddie when he can feel himself getting close, jerking himself almost on auto-pilot as he stares down, thoroughly enamoured by the rapt way Freddie watches _him_ , his eyes fixed on Brian’s hand.

He’s just murmuring, “Please, please” over and over but Brian doesn’t give him anything else.  He bites back a moan and watches as his come splatters up Freddie’s stomach and chest, even a little on his neck.

There’s a moment where Brian wishes he’d repositioned so it had covered Freddie’s face instead before he thinks they should probably discuss that first.

He only takes a moment to recover, grinning and sated for now, before taking Freddie back in hand.  

“Oh fuck, oh _fuck_ ,” Freddie says, pushing his chest up but he can’t get far with the ropes.  

“This suits you,” Brian pants, reaching behind him, back between Freddie’s legs, to find the end of the plug again.  “So good for me, Freddie, so pretty.”

His attention is on Freddie’s cock, stroking him patiently to full hardness while he just absently fiddles with the plug, keeps Freddie aware of it while Freddie squirms beneath him, his face redder than Brian’s ever seen it though he’s quieter now, breathing shallowly as he focuses.

It takes a while but Brian’s in no rush and Freddie looks so beautiful as he finally comes again, moaning raggedly, the headboard creaking where he pulls so hard on the ropes.  

“There we go,” Brian breathes, stroking him through the aftershocks even as Freddie tries to pull his hips back.  “Good boy, well done, Freddie.  What do you say?”

“Thank you,” Freddie whispers.  “Sir.”

When Brian finally releases him Freddie lays limply on the bed, trying to catch his breath, and Brian leans over to kiss his lax, open mouth before sliding off of him.

Freddie watches him in silence, exhausted.

“How are you feeling?” Brian asks him, tucking himself away and zipping back up.

Freddie only nods.

“Out loud, please.  Are you feeling okay?  Do you need to pause?”

Freddie’s eyes go wide then.  “ _Pause_?” he asks hoarsely.  “What else do you want from me?”

“At least one more,” Brian tells him.  “Can you do it?”

Freddie tips his head back, eyes closed.  

Brian lets him take stock without a word, just watching him.

“God,” Freddie says eventually.  “Will you really let me blow you tomorrow?”

Brian huffs a laugh.  He can probably be persuaded.  “Are you good to carry on, then?”

“Yes,” Freddie says.  

“Good,” Brian says, pleased and relieved.  “You’re doing so well for me, baby.  I’ve got a little present for you.”

Freddie perks up at that, his eyes wide with interest, then wider when he sees what Brian’s just picked up.

“That isn’t _little_ ,” he protests, drawing his legs up a bit since Brian doesn’t have hold of the bar to stop him.  The motion moves the plug inside him though and he stops, laying flat again and trying to relax.

Brian laughs.  “No,” he agrees, kneeling back on the bed, between Freddie’s legs.  “I suppose it isn’t.”

“I can’t come again yet,” Freddie warns.

“Oh, I think you can,” Brian says casually as he finds the lube out and starts coating the dildo in a thick layer of it.

His cock’s too tired to respond but Freddie’s eyes are fixed on Brian’s hands, watching him spread the lube over the toy before he’s apparently satisfied and his hand disappears between Freddie’s thighs.

The plug comes out easily but Brian’s always liked to be difficult; he doesn’t discard of it at once but pauses just when Freddie’s stretched around the thickest part, slowly teasing him with it, in and out until Freddie’s thighs are burning from flexing with the sensation of it.

“You’re such a fucking _tease_ ,” Freddie grits out.  It’s doing nothing to help him come, it’s just making him more sensitive which Brian must be fully aware of, the bastard’s doing it deliberately.

“Well you _are_ being punished,” Brian says reasonably, not stopping.  “Next time I tell you not to come, maybe you’ll listen.”

Freddie shivers at that, he _loves_ that voice on Brian, he’d do just about anything for him if he said it like that.  If Brian ever decides to use this power over him in the studio he’s fucked, every song will be just the way Brian wants it and Freddie won’t even _care_ if he gets this.

Even Brian’s patience runs out, though, and the plug gets tossed unceremoniously onto the floor but Freddie only gets a second’s reprieve because the toy is inside him a moment later, the head of it nudging past his entrance in one firm push.

Brian pauses at that point, glancing up at Freddie.  “You still okay?” he asks seriously.

Freddie nods.  “I wish that was _your_ cock,” he says, which makes Brian laugh before he continues.

The dildo isn’t huge, definitely not as big as Brian, but it’s the biggest thing Freddie’s had inside him tonight so it takes some getting used to.  He arches his hips up to try and ease the way, not sure how to get a helpful angle with his legs spread so far apart but Brian doesn’t really seem to need his input; the thing slides home after just a few minutes of being patiently guided and Freddie lies there and absorbs the feeling, panting for breath.

“Good boy,” Brian says soothingly, gently rubbing his thigh.  “Well done.”

Freddie can’t help but bask in that.  He’s tired and aching and too sensitive but he can manage this, for Brian.  

“You’re being so good, Freddie,” Brian continues, gently starting to move the toy, keeping a close eye on Freddie’s face so he’ll know when he’s caught his prostate.

It takes a bit of searching, more difficult when he can’t feel around with his own fingers, but Freddie’s being sweet and quiet so it’s easy to spot his reaction when he gasps and jerks and Brian lets go at once, leaving it in that position.

Freddie goes very still, trying not to put any extra pressure on.

“Good boy,” Brian whispers again, and presses a little button.

Freddie jumps like he’s been electrocuted as the toy starts to vibrate, just teasing at his sweet spot, just enough to make him taut all over, his eyes rolling with it.

Brian leaves it as it is and crawls over Freddie, cupping the back of his neck in one hand and kissing him deeply, sliding his tongue into a very unresistant mouth.

Freddie’s understandably distracted and barely kisses him back but Brian doesn’t mind, he likes the way Freddie’s breath keeps catching and the way he gasps into his mouth, the exhausted way his tongue tries to press against Brian’s before he just lets himself be kissed.

Brian gets into a comfortable position, careful not to lean on Freddie’s hips in case he dislodges the vibrator, and settles in.  

They kiss lazily, the room quiet except for the buzz of the vibrator and occasionally interrupted by Freddie shaking his head and whispering, “I can’t, I’m sorry” and Brian hushing him with his mouth and his tongue.

“You can,” he assures him, dotting kisses all over Freddie’s mouth and face.  “You can, baby.  For me.  Please.”

He lowers his hips after a long while, dragging his crotch against Freddie, just gently because he’s wearing denim.  

Freddie cries out and pulls his arms, his legs coming up as best they can, but Brian just keeps at it.  He still takes it slow, he knows Freddie’s not going to come quickly, and carries on kissing him, just slowly grinding against him until he can feel Freddie finally start to get hard again.

“Good boy,” he murmurs, continuing.  “Well done, that’s it Freddie.”

Freddie’s quiet, no arguments left, just lost in the rhythm of Brian’s tongue and the roll of their hips.  Brian’s gotten hard again inside his jeans and the thought of that helps, Freddie closes his eyes and imagines him, wishes he could touch him, but Brian wants him to wait.  

He’ll wait.

“You’re so good,” Brian whispers to him, which is all Freddie wants to hear.  “You’re doing so well.  Getting close now, aren’t you?” he asks, pressing down a bit harder, angling them so he can press Freddie down into the mattress and put pressure on the toy inside him.  

Freddie doesn’t speak, just moans wordlessly and nods, and Brian smiles against his mouth.  “That’s it,” he encourages.  “Perfect.  You’re so good.”

He doesn’t use his hands, just carries on the way they are, patient until the very end when Freddie nearly sobs as he shudders and comes, his unsteady ‘Thank you, sir’ barely audible.  

There’s not much left in him and he groans as Brian thoughtfully runs his thumb over the head of his cock.

“Nearly there,” Brian tells him softly, 

Freddie’s too out of it to get what he means, just relaxes and lets out a big breath when Brian turns the vibrator off and gently removes it, setting it on the bed behind them and fingering playfully at Freddie’s entrance now that it’s open and ready for him.

Freddie’s eyes open again and he’s shaking his head in disbelief.

Brian just looks at him.  “One more,” he says, sliding a finger inside.  “Remind me why we’re doing this.”

Freddie swallows, tightening around Brian’s finger.  

“Freddie,” Brian says firmly.

“I came without permission,” Freddie says, wrecked.  “I’m sorry, sir.”

“That’s okay, Freddie,” Brian says kindly, easily fitting another finger inside.  He’s not sure what to do for this last one, whether he should get Freddie off himself or use one of the other toys he bought, but he has plenty of time to consider; Freddie’s not going to recover enough to get hard again for a while yet.  “You didn’t mean to, did you?”

Freddie shakes his head.  “No,” he says desperately, still squeezing around Brian’s fingers.  “It was an accident.”

“Accidents happen,” Brian agrees, unbuttoning his jeans with his free hand and idly stroking himself.  “You’re not going to do it again, are you?”

“No sir.”

“You’re going to wait for my permission next time?”

Freddie nods as vehemently as his exhausted neck will allow.  

“Shall we try it again now?” Brian suggests.  “You’re going to come for me one last time, Freddie.  But only when I say.  Do you understand?”

Freddie swallows hard, watching him uncertainly.  He really does look tired, eyes heavy-lidded and hair curly with sweat, sticking to his neck and his forehead, but he nods.  

Brian arches an eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” Freddie croaks out.  “Yes sir.”

“Good boy.”

It’s not been long since he came himself but Brian’s already close, can’t believe how hard watching and hearing Freddie submit to him makes him.  He’s done this with dozens of people before but it’s so different with Freddie.  It’s _Freddie_.  

“You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” Brian can’t help but tell him, squeezing himself a little harder.  “You look so pretty all tied up for me.  You’ve been so good for me.”

Freddie’s gazing at him, taking it in, hooked on his every word.  It makes sense; despite everything, who he is, what they do, the millions of adoring fans, Freddie’s always been insecure, always found people to treat him badly and reaffirm that.  

Brian refuses to be one of them.

“Perfect,” he murmurs.  “So perfect.  We should’ve been doing this all along.”

But they can do it now, at least.

Brian lets himself moan aloud when he finishes in his hand.  “See what you do to me,” he says raggedly,  stroking himself through the afterglow of it, drawing it out.  “So fucking perfect.”

He lets go when it becomes too much, wrapping his slick hand around Freddie’s still mostly soft cock and stroking him gently.

Freddie keens at being touched but doesn’t try to pull away from it, just turns his face into his arm and breathes through it, his chest rising and falling deliberately evenly.

“There you go,” Brian tells him encouragingly.  “Just let it happen, that’s it.  Take your time, baby.”

Brian stops touching him for a moment to find one last toy, the vibrating butt plug he’d picked up in the city, and slides it into Freddie without fuss, turning it onto its lowest setting just to keep Freddie alert.

It does take a long time, Brian’s arm is aching by the time Freddie’s got anything approaching a proper erection.

“Good boy,” he praises him, letting go and changing position, ducking between Freddie’s legs.  “You’re going to wait for my permission this time, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Freddie says, pulling his head up a bit to watch him and giving a loud cry, unexpected when he’s been quiet so long, when Brian opens his mouth and takes his cock inside.

Freddie’s hips twitch and he lets out a long, almost pained groan as Brian begins to suck him, swirling his tongue and moving his head up and down, patient and slow.  

It’s a lot on his too-sensitive cock but it’s easier than Brian’s hand, soft and warm and easy.  Dangerous.  Freddie’s fully hard again sooner than he’d expected to be and he catches his breath, tugging at his arms.  

“Brian...sir,” he says aloud, carefully.  “Oh, God.  Brian please.  I’m going to need to come soon.”

How can Brian tell him he can when he’s doing this?

Freddie’s nearly panicking, determined not to break this rule again, he wants to be _good_ , but Brian’s talented with his tongue, flicking it just perfectly against him, even scraping him ever so gently with his teeth.

“Bri _please_ , please could I come?” Freddie begs him, staring at his bent head, going rigid with the effort of holding himself back.  

He’s close, he’s already so close.

Brian pulls off and Freddie breathes a sigh of relief, staring wildly at him.  “Can I come, sir?  _Please_?”

“Do you need to?” Brian asks composedly.  

“Yes.  Yes sir, can I?”

“Are you going to if I don’t say you can?” Brian asks.

Freddie shakes his head.  “No,” he says quickly.  “No sir, not unless you say, but _please_.”

“Not until I say so,” Brian says firmly, taking him back in his mouth.

Freddie nearly screams, arching his back in a bow, pushing into Brian’s mouth until Brian forces his hips back down onto the bed and follows, sucking him hard.

“Fuck, sir, _please_ , I can’t—please let me, please, please—”

“Wait,” Brian says, pulling off and wrapping a hand around him instead, stroking quickly.  “Wait for it, Freddie.”

“I am,” Freddie promises breathlessly.  

“Are you going to come?”

“Not yet!” Freddie cries.  “Not until you say.”  

“Good boy,” Brian says.  “That’s it, Freddie, you’re being so good waiting for me.”  He twists his wrist and rubs his thumb over the head of Freddie’s cock, can feel him shaking under him.  “Okay.  You can come for me now, Freddie, _well done_ , baby, that’s it.”

Freddie gives a loud cry, pressing up into Brian’s hand as he comes again, _finally_ , and throws his head back saying, “Thank you, sir, thank you,” over and over.

“You’re welcome, Freddie, you were _so_ good, I’m _so_ fucking pleased with you,” Brian says quickly, he gently removes the plug and uncuffs Freddie’s ankles, shoving the spreader bar off the bed out of their way.  “You’ve been so good for me, I can’t believe how good you are,” he continues giddily, reaching over Freddie’s head to pull the quick-release on the ropes and untie Freddie’s arms while he’s still recovering.

As soon as he’s free, Brian checks that his wrists aren’t marked too badly and gathers him against his chest, wrapping him in his arms and gently rubbing his neck and back, holding him close.

Freddie presses into him, tucking his head away, and Brian can feel him trembling.

“How are you feeling, baby?” he asks after a while, continuing to rub Freddie’s back as the shaking slowly starts to subside.  “Freddie?  I know you’re tired, baby, but can you talk to me a sec?”

Freddie doesn’t move for a moment, just stays curled in tight to Brian’s chest, before he tilts his head just enough to look at him.  He looks almost drugged, barely able to keep his eyes open but he gives Brian a lazy grin.

“Fred?  How are you feeling?  Give me a number out of ten.”

“‘Leven,” Freddie says sleepily.  

Brian huffs, amused.  “Well that’s flattering,” he says, fondly wriggling his fingers between Freddie’s shoulder-blades before continuing to stroke up and down.  “Do you need some water?”

Freddie shakes his head, yawning widely before hiding his face away again.

“Do you want to shower or do you want to sleep?”

Freddie clutches him tightly, wrapping a leg over Brian’s as well.  “Don’t go,” he says clearly.

Sleep, then.  “I’m not,” Brian assures him, keeping one arm tight around Freddie and reaching over him with the other, trying to pull open the bedside drawer without being able to see.  Thank God he put this in here rather than leaving it in the bathroom.  “I’m just going to put something on your arse where I spanked you earlier or you’re going to be really sore in the morning, okay?”

Freddie doesn’t reply, just hums, and Brian gets the lid off one-handed with no small amount of difficulty.  He doubts he’s going to be able to get Freddie to roll onto his front so he just rubs it in as best he can before chucking the pot back onto the bedside table.  They can re-apply in the morning if Freddie’s feeling it too badly, though Brian can’t deny he likes the idea of that, of Freddie aware of Brian’s hands every time he sits down tomorrow.

“I need to get the duvet, okay?” Brian whispers, carefully untangling himself.

Freddie’s eyes open wide and he looks heartbreakingly forlorn as Brian grabs the duvet as quickly as possible and gets back into bed, throwing it over the both of them.

They’re sticky and both in dire need of a shower, but Freddie’s need to be held is far greater and from the limp, boneless way he’s lying against Brian, Brian doubts he’d be able to get him up into the shower anyway.  They’ll be fine until morning, a little messiness never hurt anybody.  

Freddie’s breathing evens out within seconds, he’s always been able to fall asleep at the drop of a hat, often to be found in the oddest places while they’re touring, draped over chairs and amps and patient roadies.  Brian can’t help but give his forehead a gentle kiss, one hand coming up to cup his cheek, thumb stroking back and forth.  This is a different Freddie to the one Brian just had under him, a different Freddie to the one Brian always knew before, his best friend, his driving force, occasional bane of his music-writing existence.  He’s starting to see him more and more; a soft, quiet Freddie, vulnerable and trusting as a child, turning like a sunflower into Brian’s touch like he’s never felt anything so tender.

Brian’s never known anything he’s wanted to keep more.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this took so long!! as always free free to chat about anything queen/brian/freddie/brian&freddie related, i'm freddie-mercurial on tumblr and constantly obsessing over these two :)

 

 

When Freddie opens his eyes and realises Brian’s in bed beside him, _again_ , he wonders if two times counts as a pattern, or a habit, or a _problem_.He wonders if he should worry about it but it’s hard to convince himself he should when he’s so warm and relaxed and just _looking_ at Brian sprawled next to him sends a ripple of heat across his nerves.

He’s never felt like this before, never felt like someone’s been so in tune with _exactly_ what he wants, especially as _Freddie_ usually doesn’t even know what he wants.It makes sense, really, because Brian always _got_ him, right from the start.Always knew what Freddie was trying to say and express in scraps of napkins covered in lyrics and brief bursts of melody, able to run with that and figure out just what Freddie wanted despite tying himself in knots over his own songs half the time.

He’s always been good at directing Freddie. 

This is different, obviously, and probably stupid and reckless and risky as anything—their careers depend on each other, they can’t fuck things up between them—but Freddie doesn’t care.It’s like half of his brain has been turned to mute, the sound right down so Freddie can ignore it in favour of returning to Brian’s bedroom again to see what else he might do.He wants to get fucked by him more than he’s wanted almost anything else in his life and right now nothing else matters so long as he gets that.He thinks maybe the itch will be scratched after that, once they’ve done it properly.They can put it to bed after that, write it off as a little blip—they’re both frustrated, at odds in the studio because Brian hates this album, feeling contained and trapped because Musicland is such a dire fucking place to record.

It’s not...a _thing_ , it’s no different to getting fucked by a stranger in a sex club.The fact that it’s _Brian_ , who’s been Freddie’s rock for over a decade, doesn’t change anything.It _can’t_ change anything.

The fact that he’s the best fuck Freddie’s ever had and they haven’t actually even fucked yet...well, Freddie can’t let that change things, either.This can’t and won’t last, he knows that.But he has to see it through.

He feels amazing after last night, just like he had before.Aching in the best kind of way, his ass sore against the sheet under him, his muscles all heavy and exhausted.And he feels _relaxed_ , calm, well-rested.His brain’s not trying to run at a hundred miles a minute, thinking of the day ahead, running through their latest track, wondering what time everyone will be at the studio, trying to get everything done in his head before he even gets out of bed.

He feels quite like staying in bed for a while, just lying here luxuriating in this rare feeling of peace.He doesn’t know how Brian does this to him but he’s grateful for it; Freddie feels better than he has in weeks and he hasn’t had to drink a drop of alcohol to do it.

Brian’s still sound asleep, breathing softly beside him, and Freddie gently rearranges himself so he can secretly look at him for a bit while Brian’s none the wiser.

He’s seen Brian asleep before, in their old flat and hotel rooms from long ago and endless journeys on tour buses.But seeing him like _this_ is different, seeing him as...a partner.From the pillow right beside him, as the man who spent the night with him.He feels lucky to be here, privileged to have this.He knows he needs to be very careful with his heart because it would be so fucking easy to fall for him; Freddie feels like he’s already started to.This feeling...this peace.There’s nobody else in the world who can do that for him.

“It’s creepy to stare,” Brian says suddenly, eyes still closed, and Freddie nearly falls off the bed it startles him so much; he hadn’t even registered a change in Brian’s breathing.

“Fucking hell, Brian!” he gasps, untangling his hand from the covers to press it against his chest as Brian cracks his eyes open and grins at him. 

“Morning,” Brian says before he rolls onto his back and yawns, his leg extending out over Freddie’s as he stretches across most of the bed.“How’re you feeling?” he asks once he settles back down, turning to Freddie with a serious look that’s at odds with the still-dissipating sleepiness in his face.“Still okay?”

Freddie burrows into the covers a little bit, feeling almost shy.“Fine,” he says, which is a massive understatement and feels like a disservice to Brian.“Really good, actually,” he amends sheepishly.“Did you drug me or something?”

Brian laughs.“I think it might be the...what, half-dozen orgasms?” he says, a little smugly.

Freddie blushes.“ _Five_ ,” he corrects, which is...fucking crazy, he’s never felt such an intense amount of arousal in his life, not even when he was younger. 

Brian arches an eyebrow.“We’ll have to aim for six next time, then.”

_Next time_ imprints itself very hopefully into Freddie’s brain.

“That would take all day,” Freddie whispers, feeling heat begin to stir inside him all over again.

“Well,” Brian says, getting up onto his elbow, “next time you misbehave we’ll have to clear our schedule.”

Freddie closes his eyes, swallowing hard. 

“Or maybe I’ll use it as a reward,” Brian adds thoughtfully, leaning over Freddie to reach the nightstand.“Can you roll onto your front?I’m going to put more balm on or you’ll be feeling that sting more than I intended.”

Freddie, grateful for the chance to hide his face for a moment, does so without question and lets Brian tug the covers down over his ass so he can rub lotion into the reddened skin, accidentally letting out a little moan because the coolness and gentleness feels so damn good.

Brian lets out a little chuckle and tosses the pot back onto the table, pulling the covers back into place and running his hand through the back of Freddie’s hair.“Does it feel okay?” he asks.“You sat beautifully for that last night.”

Freddie pushes his face harder into his pillow, breathing deliberately evenly.He feels alert all over, skin prickling, and his cock is starting to get hard.After last night he didn’t think he’d be able to manage that for an entire day at least.

“Freddie?”

Freddie summons enough courage to turn his face just enough to be able to look at Brian from the tiniest sliver of his eye.

“It feels okay,” he mumbles. 

Brian nods.“Good.It’s good to have a benchmark.Your wrists aren’t sore, are they?”

Freddie shakes his head.

“Can I see?”

Freddie turns a little more and pulls one arm out from under the duvet, offering it to Brian.

He takes it in both hands, long fingers gentle around Freddie’s wrist as he carefully, tenderly turns his arm this way and that to ensure there’s no damage.The skin isn’t even reddened any more, any marks that had been there having faded in the night. 

“Can I see the other one?”

Freddie has to roll onto his back to make that possible and hopes Brian doesn’t notice that he’s hard again, and also hopes that he _does_.He offers up his other arm for inspection, watching Brian as he looks him over.

“Perfect,” Brian declares softly, pressing a delicate kiss to the inside of Freddie’s wrist.“Those ropes were really soft, that’s why I chose them.”

“I don’t mind if you _do_ leave some marks,” Freddie tells him shyly. 

Brian gives him the most pleased grin Freddie’s seen in a while.“I know,” he says, because he has their entire conversation about all this firmly committed to memory.“But I didn’t want to do that this time.Besides, I’ve left quite a few marks on your arse.”

Freddie purses his lips, trying to contain the strange giddiness that fills him with, and can’t wait to see for himself in a mirror.Something about the idea of seeing Brian’s hand printed on him sends a surge of heat rocketing right through him. 

“You said I could blow you,” he says, suddenly remembering and sitting bolt upright.“Last night.You promised.”

Brian looks thoughtful.“Hmm...did I?” he asks measuredly.There’s a teasing glint in his eye that Freddie doesn’t trust at _all_ , especially not when Brian leans forward and kisses him, gently pushing him back down into the pillows.“I believe what I _said_ was…”He pauses as he rolls on top of Freddie, smirking down at him.“You could suck it if you were good.”

Freddie’s instantly hot all over; he can feel Brian’s slowly hardening cock against him and it sends his brain haywire.“I _was_ good,” he insists breathlessly. 

Brian smiles at that, ridiculously pleased to hear Freddie say it.“You _were_ ,” he agrees.“You were so good for me,” he continues, closing the space between them and kissing Freddie’s neck, speaking against his skin.“You’ve been amazing, baby.Perfect.”He sucks a little mark under Freddie’s chin and feels Freddie swallow, licking along the column of his throat.“Is that what you want as a reward?”

Freddie’s breath escapes him all in a rush and he nods vigorously.God, it’s _instant_ , he doesn’t know how Brian does it, he just knows he never wants him to stop.

“Hmm?” Brian prompts.

“Yes,” Freddie gasps.“Yes, _please_ , that’s what I want.Will you let me?” 

Brian kisses him one last time, on the mouth this time, before straightening up so he can look at him properly.“Well,” he says consideringly, gently grinding his crotch down against Freddie’s, “since you _have_ been so good, and since you asked so nicely…”

He rolls back to his side of the bed and shoves the pillows against the headboard so he can sit up and watch while Freddie gets up, eyes bright and excited. 

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Freddie breathes, settling between Brian’s knees.

Brian gives him a warning look at the tone and Freddie shoots him a naughty little grin before he darts forward and gives him a quick apology kiss.“I’m good at this,” Freddie tells him, not sure he’s ever felt so _pleased_ to have the chance to go down on someone.But he _is_.And not just because he’s been denied it for so long now; it’s also because Brian’s made him feel _so_ fucking good so many times now and Freddie wants to repay him, wants to show him how grateful he is, make him feel great too and know that _he_ gave him that, that Brian knows he’s good, too. 

“Something told me you would be,” Brian replies wryly, settling back against the pillows and keeping his eyes on Freddie with such intensity that Freddie finds himself blushing again.

He wants to tell Brian to stop _looking_ at him like that but he also _doesn’t_ because being the object of that intent gaze makes him want to do this even better.Knowing that Brian’s so focused on him gives him a thrill not unlike feeling Brian’s hand landing on his ass had.

Freddie doesn’t give himself time to overthink it; he knows how to do this.He knows he’s good at it.He knows he could drive Brian crazy with this, he’s done it to countless men before and had them begging _him_. 

Eye contact usually helps but Freddie finds his eyes flickering quickly away from Brian’s, focusing on his cock instead because Brian’s gaze hasn’t wavered and it’s distracting.He licks his palm and wraps his hand around the base, mentally steadying himself because it’s _big_ and that’s exactly what Freddie likes but it’s actually a little intimidating once it’s near his lips.He’s not sure he’ll be able to take the whole thing, particularly not in this position, but he closes his mouth around the tip, determined to try.

He starts with a slow, easy rhythm, making himself relax, just stroking what he can’t fit in his mouth.His head prickles where he can feel Brian watching him and Freddie feels oddly nervous, has to hold himself back because he’s so desperate to do this _well_ he can feel himself trying to push it and prove himself.

“Don’t rush,” Brian says quietly, unexpectedly, and Freddie pauses to breathe.He knows him too damn well.“Take your time, Freddie.Wait until you’re ready.”

Christ.Something about him talking like that just pulls Freddie under his spell.

Freddie hums to show he’s heard and uses his tongue instead, sliding it back and forth along the underside of Brian’s cock until he hears him let out a small, almost silent groan.

Buoyed, Freddie dips his head and takes him in further, removing his hand and bracing it on Brian’s thigh, sucking hard for as long as he can.

“ _Fuck_ that’s good, good boy, that’s it,” Brian breathes and Freddie moans loudly, pulling off so he doesn’t choke, already out of breath.

“Oh fuck,” he pants, throwing his head up to look at Brian.

“Is that it?” Brian asks pointedly.

Freddie shakes his head and quickly dips his head back down, squeezing his thighs together because the words _good boy_ seem to have a direct link to his cock.So does sucking Brian’s, it seems, because he’s so hard it’s difficult to think about anything other than _this_ ; the weight, the warmth, the taste.Doing it properly, making it good, making it the fucking _best_ Brian’s ever had.

He wishes he _wasn’t_ so hard so he could _focus_ on pulling out every trick he knows but he can’t, he’s just going off pure feeling.He knows it’s sloppy—it’s difficult to do anything _fancy_ when Brian’s so big that it’s all Freddie can do to get his mouth around him—but he can’t worry about it.Brian doesn’t seem to care, his fingers winding into Freddie’s hair to tug gently and Christ does _that_ make it difficult to ignore his own cock.

Freddie moans even louder than Brian, taking him down far enough to gag and have to pull back but he does it again a moment later, trying valiantly to swallow past it.

“Oh fuck,” Brian mutters, and Freddie can hear the _thunk_ of his head tipping back against the headboard.“That’s good, Freddie, fucking hell the _mouth_ on you.Knew you’d be good at this.You feel amazing, baby, well done.”

He _looks_ amazing too, with his hair a mess and his cheeks pink, eyes and mouth both shining wet, utterly dedicated to his task. 

Brian can’t help but pull his hair a bit, especially because it makes Freddie moan so prettily and strain to push his head back down his length.Brian can’t deny how much that excites him; seeing Freddie desperate to take more, knowing how much Freddie _wants_ to do this.

“That’s it,” Brian breathes, swallowing hard and wishing he’d jerked off beforehand so he’d last longer.“You like that, baby?Let me hear you, don’t be shy.Come on, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?”

He’s not sure if it’s because Brian asked or because of the praise but Freddie does moan again, loudly, and Brian bites down on a deep groan, pushing his hips up without warning.

“Louder, Freddie, let me hear how much you love it,” he directs feverishly, closing his eyes to try and keep his orgasm at bay for just a few moments longer, nudging his hips up again and letting out a shuddery groan as Freddie takes it with ease this time, swallowing him down and still pressing for more.“God, you’re amazing.Bit more, Freddie, come on.God, I can’t wait to fuck you, gonna make you feel so good—touch yourself for me, I want you to come from this, come on, Freddie.”

Freddie nearly chokes at that but his weight shifts as he gets a hand between his legs, letting out a muffled cry around Brian as he starts to stroke himself and Brian watches entranced as Freddie’s arm moves in time with his head.

Brian has to fist his hand in the covers to hold on for a few more seconds; knowing that Freddie’s jerking off over sucking his cock nearly sends him right over the edge but he manages to claw it back, breathing hard.

“That’s it, just like that, you’re so good, baby, I need you to come for me,” Brian tells him, well aware that he’s bordering on _babbling_ but he can’t help himself and he’s pretty sure Freddie’s too far gone to notice anyway, his eyes big and bright as he finally looks up and meets Brian’s. 

Then he squeezes them shut and groans loudly around Brian’s cock, his movements stuttering.Brian hopes to God that was him coming and clutches his hair again, holding on and pressing up further into his mouth as he finally lets go, arching his hips right up off the bed.

Their position means Freddie doesn’t have a hope of swallowing it before it spills out of his mouth but Brian couldn’t care less—they can do that next time, and the sheets will be changed later anyway. 

It takes a few seconds for him to figure out how to relax his hand and let go of Freddie’s hair so he can pull off, which he does with a great big breath, collapsing against Brian’s legs as they both lie there panting.

“Christ,” Freddie says eventually, turning his head on Brian’s thigh to look at him.“I think that was the best blowjob I never had, darling.”

His own come is drying on his stomach and cock, his hands are sticky, and his mouth and chin are dripping wet but he can’t even stir himself enough to wipe his face on the covers.Normally he’d feel self-conscious, he’d want to get cleaned up so nobody could see him looking like this, but not with Brian. 

Which might have something to do with the _way_ Brian looks at him when he’s like this; like Freddie’s the sexiest, most incredible thing Brian’s ever seen, like if he could just regain feeling in his legs he’d be on him again in an instant.

Or it might just be because it’s _Brian_ , and Freddie trusts him.He’s spent years trusting him while drunkenly staggering along with only Brian to keep him upright, trusted him to understand what music Freddie was trying to make and to _make_ it, to say the right thing to a reporter when Freddie simply couldn’t face another interview.It’s not much to trust him with this, too.It’s Brian.

“Angh,” is all Brian manages in response.

It’s a good few minutes before he recovers enough to sit up properly, trying not to rudely dislodge Freddie where he’s enjoying his daze against Brian’s leg. 

“Do you want to shower first?” Brian offers, reaching down to lightly scratch at Freddie’s head as though he were a cat.

Freddie shoots him a surprisingly shy look.“Can we just...wait here for a bit?” he asks uncertainly, and Brian could kick himself.

“Of course, Fred,” he says hurriedly.“There’s no rush, baby.Come here.”He holds his arms out and Freddie hesitates for half a second before crawling up the bed and collapsing onto him, letting Brian wind his arms around his back.“I was just going to order breakfast while you were in there,” he says, rubbing his back the way he knows Freddie likes.“You need to eat something after last night.”

“Eggs,” Freddie says decidedly, suddenly _ravenous_ , which is unusual for him.“And tea.”

Brian snorts.“Like I’d forget to order you tea.”No amount of orgasms would make up for that unforgivable crime.

“Earl Grey,” Freddie tells him.

Brian fondly rolls his eyes, though Freddie can’t see it.“I know.”Freddie’s drank the same since Brian met him all those years ago.

Apparently satisfied, Freddie lapses into a sleepy silence, just leaning on Brian and enjoying the comfortable quiet while Brian idly runs his hand over his back.He doesn’t feel detached and floaty like he has before but he feels _good_ , enveloped in afterglow that he wants to hold on to for as long as he can.

It doesn’t disappear altogether but it does begin to fade enough that Freddie eventually can’t deny that he really, _really_ needs to shower, no matter how much he’d like to continue lying here like this.

With a little sigh he stretches and sits up, wincing at the sting, and forces himself out of bed, catching Brian staring openly at his ass when he turns.Seeing the look of pure want and pleased pride on Brian’s face fills him with giddy pleasure and Freddie can’t help but grin a bit uncontrollably. 

Brian doesn’t even have the good grace to look abashed when he realises he’s been caught.He just smirks.“You’re really going to feel that later,” he says, a definite hint of _smug bastard_ in his voice.

“You’re into that, aren’t you?” Freddie asks, before he can second-guess himself.

Brian nods at once.“Very.Now go and shower before I get distracted.”

Freddie blows him a kiss and heads for the bathroom as Brian grabs the room service menu and the phone behind him.

He turns the shower on and whacks the heat right up but before he steps in Freddie clambers onto the toilet seat and carefully turns around so he can see his ass in the mirror, actually gasping aloud when he sees what Brian’s done to him.

There are literal handprints in some places, dark red and bright pink—nothing badly bruised but _very_ definitely there and unmistakably hands, big hands.Brian’s hands. 

“Fuck,” Freddie breathes, staring.He gently runs a finger over one of the marks, watching in the mirror, and has to swallow hard.No fucking way can he get hard again after last night and this morning but fuck, if he could...no wonder Brian was staring. 

It takes effort to drag his gaze away so he can get in the shower but eventually the siren call of hot water and soap wins out and Freddie spends a good long time under the spray, luxuriating in it, letting his muscles relax properly.He has to face the shower-head because even just the spray on his ass is a bit much but it’s quite possibly the best shower he’s ever had. 

He doesn’t get out until he hears Brian knocking on the door telling him breakfast will be delivered shortly, brushing his teeth over the sink while Brian slips into the bathroom behind him and has a lightning-fast shower of his own.

“Don’t get dressed yet, I’ll put more balm on you,” Brian calls out as Freddie leaves, muffled through toothpaste.

Freddie snorts but keeps his towel wrapped around him until Brian steps out in the robe from the back of the door. 

“You just want to look at my arse again,” Freddie accuses playfully.

Brian grins at him.“Maybe,” he allows, diving across the rumpled covers on the bed to grab the pot and rolling over to look at Freddie.“Do you mind?”

Freddie shakes his head and draws near enough for Brian to be able to put his hands on his hips and turn him around, tugging his towel away. 

“God,” Brian breathes, and Freddie jumps a little as he runs his fingers over the marks.“Have you seen yourself in the mirror?”

Freddie nods. 

“I love this,” Brian tells him, gently applying more lotion.“These kinds of marks.How’s this for you?”

“I like them, too,” Freddie admits quietly, glad he’s not facing Brian while he says it because he can feel his cheeks burning.“What do you love about it?” he asks curiously.He knows why _he_ loves it but the fun part is over for Brian.

Brian laughs and gently tugs Freddie down until he perches on his knee and gasps at the feeling.“That’s why,” Brian tells him lowly.“I love that you can still feel it.Every time you sit down today you’re going to think about me.Aren’t you?”

Freddie bites his lip and nods; he already knows it’s true.He hadn’t thought about Brian thinking about him like that and the idea of it excites him more than he thinks is probably rational.

“And every time I see you sit down and do that little wince, I’m going to think about last night, too,” Brian continues, twisting the lid back onto the pot and setting it aside.“My hand’s actually still stinging, you know.”

Freddie snorts and gets up before he can do something stupid like try to initate more sex when he knows his body definitely can’t handle it yet.“ _Is_ it, darling?You poor thing.”

Brian laughs at him and busies himself trying to tug the duvet into some semblance of neat, or at least neat enough that it covers any wet patches on the sheets beneath, until someone knocks at the door.

“That’ll be breakfast,” he says, glancing over at Freddie.

Freddie stares at the door for a second before he darts into the bathroom and pushes the door nearly shut, keeping out of sight so Brian can let the hotel staff in.

He helps himself to the spare robe while Brian deals with getting breakfast arranged, creeping back out once he hears the door close to find a veritable feast all laid out on trays across the bed and Brian sat back up against the headboard.

Seeing him there makes Freddie want to be between his legs and he has to quickly avert his gaze, wondering how the fucking hell he’s going to continue with life as normal with Brian after all this.Brian’s an attractive man; he’s tall, handsome, talented, ridiculously intelligent, kind and thoughtful—everything people want, and a bit arrogant and kind of an asshole along with it, which is _just_ what Freddie likes.And he’s always been aware of that in a can’t-have-it kind of way.Except now he can have it, and he never wants to give it up. 

“What’s the matter?” Brian asks, watching him worriedly.

“Nothing,” Freddie says quickly, crossing the room to join him.“Just thinking.”

“Less thinking, more eating,” Brian says, pointedly patting the bed.“Banana?”He offers one with a sly grin and Freddie takes it from him before throwing it at his chest, trying to fight off his grin.

“Pervert,” he accuses mildly, sipping daintily at his tea instead while Brian rescues the banana before it disappears beneath the sheets and gets sat on. 

“It’s a good source of energy,” Brian says, peeling it himself.“You can’t just have tea for breakfast, I want you to eat something,” he adds sternly, before catching himself.“I mean, you should eat something.It’s your choice.Sorry, it’s hard to switch off.”

Freddie hides his shy smile behind his cup.He really doesn’t mind, in all honesty.“I’ll eat something,” he promises.“I’m really hungry.”And Brian has indeed ordered eggs, along with toast, tomatoes, bacon, porridge, fruit, yoghurt, granola, honey, juice, tea, coffee, croissants—Freddie’s pretty sure they have every breakfast item the hotel offers laid out before them.

He loads up a plate with a bit of everything that takes his fancy, knowing he doesn’t have a chance of eating it all but enjoying the freedom, wanting to graze.It’s nice.It’s relaxed and comfortable and somehow, miraculously, not awkward at all.

“Are you going to go to the studio today?” Freddie asks as he picks a pastry apart into bite-sized pieces, watching Brian struggle to cut up tomatoes while his plate is balanced on a tray.

“Maybe,” Brian replies.“Probably.”It’s a Saturday but they go most days, usually at odd hours so the days and nights seem to blend together, only ever broken up by Freddie cutting things short and disappearing off with Paul.Which Brian is _not_ thinking about, he won’t let that ruin their morning or taint the fun they’ve had so far.Maybe it’s arrogant but this feels so much beyond anything Freddie has with Paul or anyone else at that club; Brian’s positive that’s been nothing but rough, no-strings sex.Not that there are strings here, but there’s _something._ There’s something in eating breakfast and drinking tea together after a night of bondage.Brian doesn’t usually do this with people, certainly not someone he’s spent the night Domming.

He’s not going to push it, doesn’t dare, but the relief that they can have something that feels normal after all this makes him feel nearly hysterical.He’d really thought for a time that things with Freddie were completely fucked and couldn’t ever go back to how they had been.And this isn’t how things had been by a long shot—it’s so much _better_ , as long as he can have this, too.Have Freddie smiling and chatting and making plans to go to the studio, like it’s old times again and this new album never drove a rift between them.

“I started playing around with a new idea, actually,” Brian admits suddenly.“A few weeks ago.Not really sure if we can do anything with it, it’s...well, you know it’s not really my sort of thing.”

Freddie looks at him very carefully.Brian thinks for an awful moment that Freddie’s going to ask him straight out what he thinks of their new album, because he won’t lie about it and it will definitely cause an argument, but the moment passes without shattering.Freddie knows full well what Brian thinks, they all do, but it’s easier to ignore it.For the first time, Brian’s starting to think they might be able to get through it.

“I’d like to hear it, if you don’t mind,” Freddie says softly.

Brian nods.“I’ll bring it along,” he says.“I don’t have much, just some words, a few riffs.Tune needs to be sorted out.Maybe you can make something of it.”It’s his song, after all.Brian wrote it for him.

“I’ll rip it apart and get the good bits out,” Freddie promises with a grin.

Brian can’t help but snort.“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Fred.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

For once, Freddie makes it to the studio before Brian.He finds John already there, having a drink with Mack in the control room while they play back the bass track for a song they’ve been working on. 

Freddie tries not to feel too disappointed that Brian’s not there; they only saw each other a few hours ago, after all, but he can’t help hopefully scanning each room he passes looking for that familiar head of hair.

“No Brian?” Freddie asks when he joins Deaky and Mack.

John shakes his head, shooting Freddie a grin.“Not yet, thankfully,” he replies.“I’m sure he’ll be along soon to start an argument.”

Freddie purses his lips, horribly aware that just a few weeks ago he’d have rolled his eyes in sympathy with John, feeling hard done by because Brian’s been so difficult in the studio this time around, but now he just feels sort of guilty.Brian really does hate this sort of music. 

John, ever observant, notices.“He’s not been so bad lately,” he adds fairly, setting his drink down.“Stopped jumping down your throat so much.”

Freddie coughs, willing himself not to blush, and hastily busies himself making a drink he doesn’t really fancy.“Has he?” he asks airily.“I hadn’t really noticed.”

“Well you guys haven’t screamed at each other over a song for a good few weeks, so that’s something,” Deaky points out.

Which is true.Things had been horribly awkward between them after that first night in the club and still a bit uncertain even after the first night they spent together, but there haven’t been any shouting matches since. 

“Are you two just keeping your distance at the moment?” John asks carefully.He’s not one to pry so Freddie knows he’s genuinely worried about him and has no idea how to reply without either lying or giving himself away.

“No, nothing like that,” he says, fiddling with his drink.“We sort of had a...chat.Things are better.”It’s not _un_ true.Technically they _did_ have a chat, and things _are_ better.It’s just that the chat was about whether or not Brian could tie Freddie up for kinky sex and not anything to do with their professional lives or working relationship.

Not wanting to give John an opening to ask more questions and somehow see right through him with that way he has, Freddie busies himself listening to what John and Mack have been working on. 

Roger shows up before Freddie’s even gotten through all the material but he wants John’s help to work on the bass synth for a new song _he_ wants to do which leaves Freddie with little to do but wait for Brian.And he _is_ waiting for Brian, no matter how much he pretends he’s working something out on the piano in the other room or listening back to what John and Roger are jamming together.Most of his attention is fixed on the door, hoping every minute to see Brian walking in.

He doesn’t know why; it’s not like they have plans.He just wants to see him, offer him a smile, know that they’re okay.He wants to work on this new track, get stuck back in writing music with Brian just like the old days.

It’s several hours before he shows up, sloping in with a wave through the window at Roger and John and a secret smile for Freddie as he joins him in the control room.

“You’re late,” Freddie can’t help but remark.

Brian snorts, his mind immediately taken back to last night.“We didn’t agree a time,” he points out.They never agree a time, everyone just comes and goes.But he’s pleased to know that Freddie’s clearly been waiting for his arrival.“Had to run into town and pick something up first.What are those two working on?”

Freddie’s desperate to know what Brian’s been up to but doesn’t want to seem it so he turns back to watch their bandmates through the glass.“Nothing concrete, they’re just trying a few things out.Mack’s gone to grab some dinner, he’ll be back in later.What’s this new track of yours?”

Brian hasn’t contributed much of his own so far so Freddie’s eager to see what he’s come up with now, though he’s worried that if they start arguing over this the way they usually do, on this album, it’s going to blow apart their unlikely peace.

“I’ll show you,” Brian says, glancing into the studio area.“I have a bit of a tune but I want to try with a synthesiser on the actual track,” he tells Freddie, who nearly falls off his chair in surprise.

“You... _what_?”

Brian meets his eyes and shrugs.“Look, I’ve spent a lot of time being an asshole over this album but I figured I need to either get with it or be left behind.So I’m getting with it.”

Freddie’s more touched than he can say and quickly stands up, wishing he could close the space between them and kiss him.He couldn’t even if they were alone; he has no idea where the hell they stand, what the hell they _are_.Can he kiss him casually?It’s not sexy or kinky or blowing off steam.It’s just a kiss.It’s too special. 

“Brian…” Freddie starts, feeling every piece of guilt he’s stored up over the past few weeks come rising up inside him.“I’m…I’m sorry, okay?I know you hate this.”

Brian laughs, but only gently.He looks like he kind of wants to kiss Freddie, too.“I don’t hate it,” he says, at which Freddie pulls such a face Brian can’t help but snort.

“Okay,” he amends, rubbing his neck self-consciously.“I do, a bit.It’s not my sort of music.But it’s music _you_ want to make.And John.And it’s your band, too.”

Freddie purses his lips and can’t really say anything in response to that because he thinks he might tear up.He has to swallow hard before he can get his voice to work.“You wouldn’t have been left behind,” he promises.

“Thanks.Do you think we can interrupt them?” Brian asks, and Freddie’s grateful because the sincerity in his thanks makes him realise suddenly that Brian really _had_ been worried about being left behind and he feels awful.

He turns to look through the glass and gestures at Roger before buzzing through to him.“You guys done?Brian’s got something to show us.”

The surprise on both of their faces, particularly John’s, makes Freddie wish he had a camera in his hands.

“Yeah, come on through.”

Brian leads the way, pulling out a sheet of paper covered in his scrawling handwriting and handing it to Freddie before he goes to stand in front of the keyboard.

“So I haven’t figured the tune out properly but I sort of came up with…”He fiddles with the settings before playing through a little bass-line a few times, glancing up at Freddie as he does so.

Freddie’s already moving his hips to it, staring down at Brian’s paper to try and decipher his ridiculous writing.

“I’m not invited to the party,” he sings after Brian’s repeated the riff a couple of times, nodding along, “been sitting here all night.I’m all alone at the party, I don’t feel alright.” 

Immediately, the way he sings the lines makes Brian understand the song better—it’s a different rhythm to what he’d had in his head, but that was exactly why he wanted to hear Freddie sing it. 

“I like that,” Brian says, stopping playing for a moment and looking up with a grin.

Even John’s smiling at him.“It’s quite funky,” he allows, surprise colouring his tone as he flops into a chair.“Are you going to translate to guitar?”

“No I’m going to do it on a synthesiser,” Brian says casually, not even looking for John’s reaction.“For the bass.”

Freddie and Roger glance at each other and Freddie’s pretty sure Roger’s thinking the same as him; it’s Brian’s pop back at John for _Back Chat_. 

John’s evidently aware of that too because he huffs a good-natured laugh and shrugs.“Fair enough,” he concedes.“I like the riff.”

And some tension that’s been held tight between all four of them for a long time now seems to ease somewhat.

“That’s all I have for the first verse but then the chorus is probably where the guitar would come in, that’s where it says ‘Dancer, dancer’, Fred,” Brian directs, playing through the tune again while Freddie finds the lyrics and sings along.

They fall into their usual rhythm, all of them chipping in at various points, pens getting searched out as they scribble down copies of the lyrics to look at.Roger throws himself behind his drum kit and starts tapping out a beat to play along with the riff and John comes over to watch Brian on the keyboard, tapping his foot and nodding his head in time.

Freddie takes over on the keyboard after a while, playing it over and over for Brian as he comes up with more lyrics, helped along by Freddie and the others occasionally tossing out suggestions.Usually not ones Brian likes but they at least help him realise what he _doesn’t_ want so that by the time Mack’s returned and they’ve laid down the rough bass track he has a near-enough full sheet of lyrics. 

The hours tick by the way they usually do; without any of them realising the time.Freddie had insisted on laying down a full guide-vocal tonight while it’s all still fresh and it’s late by the time they finish and finally call it a night.

It’s too late even to go out clubbing—‘Only weirdos out this late, and not the fun ones,’ Roger declares—so they all head back to the hotel together for the first time in...Freddie has no idea _how_ long.Ages. 

Roger decides to drink in the bar for a while but John wants to go to bed and he heads up in the elevator with Brian and Freddie so they can’t do anything.Freddie’s not even sure if anything would’ve happened but he can feel a frisson of tension between them as they deliberately don’t look at each other in the lift that tells him that they probably _would_ have, given the chance.

It’s probably a good thing, really, because his ass is sore and they probably can’t just go to each other’s hotel rooms without prior arrangement for a fantastic fuck because...it’ll destroy the band, or their friendship, or something.There’s probably a good reason somewhere.Freddie struggles to think of it when he unlocks the door to his room and steps in alone, able to imagine the heat of Brian pressed against his back so well it’s almost like he really is there.

He’s not, but someone’s been in.Freddie’s eyebrows draw together when he notices the little package on his bed, neatly set atop a note. 

No way a fan could get in here to leave something crazy in his bed so he’s curious about what the hell it is, wondering if his mum’s sent something and the hotel staff have left it for him.

He reaches for the box first, the weight of it surprising in his hand; it’s not chocolates or candies or any of the other usual sorts of things he’s likely to find lying around his bedroom.No, inside is a gorgeous watch, heavy in Freddie’s palm when he delicately takes it out and stares at it, stunned.He isn’t usually one to wear a watch but this isn’t the sort of thing you’d pick for casual wear; it’s beautiful, clearly expensive.The script inside the box lid tells him it’s one of only two hundred pieces, special and rare, perfectly crafted and exquisitely detailed.Just the sort of thing Freddie likes.

He lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, carefully setting it back in its place before he picks up the note.

He recognises that scrawling writing at once.

 

_Don’t be late next time._

_B._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
